


Walking the Wire

by Diddle_Riddle



Series: A New Dawn [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: A little bit of everything, Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Injury, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Canon-Typical Violence, Edward Nygma is Robin, Eventual Smut, Families of Choice, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Feelings, Fluff, Friendship, Fun, Gen, Hidden truths, How long can you keep a big secret from Batman, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, It's angsty and cute and heartwarming and dark, Just like in Life, Lies, Like the fact you are dating a rogue, Love, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Protective Bruce Wayne, Protective Siblings, Rape/Non-con Elements, Secret Relationship, Self-Esteem Issues, Siblings, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Trust Issues, Unhealthy Relationships, When you are Robin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:14:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 82,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25380706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diddle_Riddle/pseuds/Diddle_Riddle
Summary: Bruce clenched and unclenched his fists, a wave of rage invaded his senses upon realizing he failed at solving this case on time to save everyone."I tried.", he eventually uttered an apologetic whisper to Jim Gordon."Geez, Bats.", Robin's forever teasing tone jested on his side. "For the sake of this whole 'Dark Knight legend', I hope you'll find a better title the day you write your autobiography."
Relationships: Edward Nygma & Bruce Wayne, Edward Nygma & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma, Stephanie Brown & Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Edward Nygma, Stephanie Brown & Jason Todd
Series: A New Dawn [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1846459
Comments: 110
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! <3  
> This is the sequel to "Pictures on a Crooked Wall".  
> Therefore, this fic... makes more sense if you've read the first book. However, if you haven't and are curious to give a try to this story, I think it's pretty easy to grasp the context of this AU: you just have to consider the main characters' situation as already established. Of course feel free to ask if you have questions, I'll be happy to provide clarifications!  
>   
> Whether you're following this series or a newcomer, I send you good vibes and warm greetings!  
> Note: keep in mind I am a standard fanfiction writer, I live on kudos and comments, those go straight to my heart and give me the motivation to progress in a story. ^^  
> Welcome to part 2 of this Universe, I hope you'll enjoy the journey! ;)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In for an in medias res beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no stealing of the Batmobile's tires this time. Or... not yet at least ;)

_Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick..._

Time was running out.

Dreadful milliseconds morphed into terrifying seconds, what gave birth to frightening minutes. Today the perspective is _scary:_ time is a luxury they can't afford. Not now, not in this context. Not while the game puts _lives_ in _danger._

"We don't have all day, we..."

"I am _aware.",_ Edward cut sharply before the Bat resumed his angry muttering. "I'm going as fast as I can, if you have another idea or a quicker method, I'd be happy to listen to your solution! If not, can you please _stop_ distracting me when I do my job?!"

The question was rhetorical, Robin didn't wait for an answer as he browsed through his numerous computer programs, his domino mask-covered gaze riveted on the luminous screens. Bruce grumbled some more, walking back and forth behind the young genius' seat.

In full uniforms, they urgently headed to the Batcave when it appeared evident it's in front of a computer they'll be the most efficient for the first part of the investigation, not on the field.

The situation itself is rather habitual in Gotham City: hostages, an armed group asking for money and a way to disappear in exchange of the people returned safe and sound.

What is uncommon however, is that the gang didn't try to rob... a bank, a supermarket or a casino. Usually, when low-ranked thugs have recourse to hostages, it's on the spur of the moment in the middle of their attack, when they come to terms with the fact they've been too slow to walk out without complications. They turn against the clients or the workers, or both, in a vain attempt at winning additional minutes before the police bursts in, heralding their nearly inevitable travel to Blackgate, where they stay locked for a short period.

There nonetheless, those newcomers behaved like regular villains. They sent a videotape showing twenty strangers who prima facie don't share any link whatsoever, aligned in a white, clean space reminiscient of an hospital operating room or a... morgue.

And nothing else.

They set up their conditions, face covered of a cloth, two voices spoke for their group. No clue as for where they lurked, nothing that would allow to identify them.

Sole certain data is that they weren't joking: to punctuate their message, one of them shot a bullet in an hostage's head, provoking a wave of horrified screams amongst the nineteen survivors.

The Commissioner Gordon called Batman and Robin for back-up, this tape had been transmitted directly to the GCPD. Even if he favored working on schemes plotted by rogues in place of thugs, Edward Nygma acknowledged this gang is cautious enough so far to provide an... interesting mystery to solve.

Thus here they were now: back in the Batcave with the video.

Eddie launched homemade softwares such as voice recognition –for the two goons who talked– and facial recognition –for the twenty hostages to find out a link between them–. For the rest, he searched for an effective element able to isolate the room from which they communicated. It would be ridiculous to rush to Gotham General simply 'cause this _looks like_ an hospital room. Or, if someone gave this ludicrous order, this would be a decision 'made in GCPD', not a mistake from the Dynamic Duo.

In the mean time, Ed reserved a screen dedicated to a different purpose: keep them abreast of any last-minute new related to their incident, in case the morons decided to send a tape to Vicki Vale, who won't waste long to gladly make this _public._

Initially, Robin thought this would be easy to pinpoint who were the leaders of this sham. Soon enough, it appeared that... it will require more focus.

As for the hostages? The rare recognizeable ones were impossible to link, their pack is too heterogeneous to have been meticulously selected.

"I will..."

"Bruce.", Edward interrupted again through gritted teeth. "Quit. Pacing. There is no need for you to be out playing flying Dracula in the sky as long as we don't know _where_ to go. And since those idiots are rookies, you don't have anyone to beat to a pulp either to gather informations. Can't you just be a little _patient?"_

"Not when lives are put at risk."

Retorting to this cold statement would be fruitless. Furthermore... Ed wasn't well-placed to give lessons about 'patience'. Far from it.

"Do you wanna talk about it?", the teenager asked afterwards.

He settled for the standard, remaining alternative: he doesn't have anything neither on the hostage-takers nor on the foxhole where they hid, so the two of them could reach the places of employment and the residences of the hostages identified. That will give them something to work on, a starting point for this investigation.

"Talk about what?", Batman replied in a low tone, once they were both in the Batmobile on their way to the building where stood the headquarters of the company the victim worked at.

Perhaps this man had been killed at random. _Or_ he died because the hostage-takers held a grudge against him.

It wouldn't be the first time an entire attack staging is meant to dissimulate the death of _one_ precise protagonist.

"About the _real_ reason why you feel so angry and mildly defeated.", Edward responded firmly. "This reason has a name: Harvey Dent."

Bruce's fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

"I am angry because we deal with an hostages situation.", he brushed off any personal struggles. "Why would this be related to..."

"Thanksgiving.", Eddie completed matter-of-factly, exposing that to him, there is _no doubt_ in the matter. "It's 'related' because this dinner happened _yesterday,_ you made it _transparent_ you don't tolerate the mere view of your best friend having a girlfriend."

"That's not true. I am happy for them."

 _"Liar._ You haven't recovered from meeting his girlfriend, this is still getting on your nerves and blinding you with _rage_ hours later!"

The Bat's rigid attitude, his exceedingly clenched jaw (that must hurt...) and how significantly he increased the car's already high velocity screamed how _tangible_ this reality is.

"Slow down a bit.", his sidekick requested mockingly. "At this speed, if somebody crosses the road you'll kill them on the spot, you reckless driver."

Only comment he obtained is another irascible grunt.

Alright... this is going to be a _long_ day.

__________

Going to the victim and three of the other hostages' places of work had been a complete waste of time.

They asked Gordon to send detectives to their houses in the meantime, in an attempt to collect clues. The Commissioner returned as empty handed as the vigilantes; a second video arrived when he went back to the H.Q.

Locked in his office as this end of November evening slowly drifted into the night, the three launched the tape.

"I see," voice number 1 begun from the same location, "that we haven't received our due. This is unfortunate."

"Especially for them.", voice number 2 complemented, in some... parodied villainous speech.

"This doesn't make sense!", Gordon exclaimed, forever too prone to lose his composure. "Why don't they give a meeting ground for us to send their money!"

"Because money is not the aim.", Robin analyzed, trying to figure out what he missed. "This is not a standard hostages situation, this is a demonstration."

"Of what?"

"Of the police's incompetence in this town, what else? It's to prove that on your own, you are _unable_ to save citizens and track down murderers. The next step will likely be to send these videos to Gotham News and have the tapes widely spread across the medias."

"But... what is the _point?!"_

Poor overstressed Gordon., Edward judged. Given the life you chose, you aren't done being an anxious wreck.

"I don't know.", he conceded quietly. "And I don't like not knowing. From what we have, I'd say the goal is a coming out in the Underworld. I wouldn't be surprised this gang joins either the mob or the extended Rogues Gallery. They don't want to leave Gotham, they long to get _noticed_ by starting with something big. What a group of dumbasses.", he spat dismissively. "There are much more impressive manners to begin than to kidnap people at random and shoot them one by one in a morgue-looking setting. I swear, some criminals severely lack of _panache."_

Batman and the Commissioner shared a glance above the sixteen years old's head. That kid voiced... questionable sentences, sometimes.

"Anything else?", the policeman inquired.

By working with the Knight and his birds plus Batgirl, Jim solved many more cases than he'd handle on his own. This... arrangement also meant supplementary nervousness, plus... facing these costumed weirdos' peculiarities. So far, he managed. He even appreciated their company.

Two more hostages died by the end of this second video; they still had no material to work on.

"There's something missing.", Ed remarked. "Something obvious that's right in front of our eyes, yet we don't see it..."

While they 'don't see', three people died. And he won't be at Wayne Manor on time for Jason and Stephanie's bedtime story. Edward admitted, the latter inconvenience bothered him more than the former. Not that he didn't trust Alfred to take good care of them, as ever, but he _much preferred_ being present during the evening routine, this counted among the cute domestic moments he loved to share with them.

He'll make it up to his siblings tomorrow, after he arrested those goons.

At present, he scanned studiously every second of the video, whilst Batman became more and more short-tempered next to him. Whereas Eddie was well aware his partner's foul mood is not exclusively related to the affair, with the Commissioner around he couldn't broach again the 'sexy lawyer' topic; he'll have to wait until they're back home. Aside from the Dent deception, Bruce clenched and unclenched his fists, a wave of rage invaded his senses upon realizing he _failed_ at solving this case on time to save everyone.

"I tried.", he eventually uttered an apologetic whisper to Jim Gordon.

"Geez, Bats.", Robin's forever teasing tone jested on his side. "For the sake of this whole 'Dark Knight legend', I hope you'll find a _better title_ the day you write your autobiography."

At least his humorous intervention softened the atmosphere.

"What is the most efficacious trick to hide an eye-opening truth?", Ed pursued, his iconic smug smirk forming. "Make it even more visible: if you put it under the spotlight, people will forget about it and deem your lie convincing, they won't look for an underhandedness. We see the pole."

"The pole?"

"Right there, Commissioner.", he paused the video.

This lasted less than one second: a small, grey buldging form popped up close to the left top corner.

"It's the tip of a recording pole."

Gordon frowned, he leaned closer. Behind his glasses reflected a blatant incomprehension.

"Are you sure?"

"Definitely.", he turned in the desk chair he claimed as his own, the two men standing behind him. "Who's _the_ detective here?"

"I am.", both men answered simultaneously.

Edward chuckled as Bruce addressed Jim a reproving glance. The older one shook his head.

"Well right now, lucky you I've got this. Try to keep up.", Robin boasted then rapidly briefed his acolytes: "Something didn't match. The voices, the decorum, the lack of meaning... we are indeed in a _stage play._ This is not an operating room, it's the _replica_ of an operating room. Major difference. I bet they are in a recording studio: what better place to find equipment to disguise your voice and use neat video systems? Another important element: they should have taken off one of their hostages' glasses. They mirrored a logo when she turned her head toward the third victim, shot on her right at a few centimeters from her."

"Good job.", Bruce validated when Ed zoomed on the fleeting glimpse of a minuscule image printed in the side of this woman's round glasses. "Can you read that?"

"No need to. It's too blurry to decrypt the name, but these shades of yellow and blue color code coincide with two things: IKEA stores and a small studio in charge of lower-budget movies located in the West part of town. We'll be there in twenty minutes at most."

Batman's gloved hand gently squeezed the teen's shoulder, Bruce's trademark parental manner to show support or congratulate when he felt proud. Eddie smiled at him, always so pleased whenever his partner effectuated this affectionate gesture.

"Villains who think they are actors in a movie.", Jim sighed as the Dynamic Duo left his office. "That's a new one."

Looks like he could forget about taking a break tonight. The Commissioner added this current case to the... endless list of extra hours he devoted to his job.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smile, you're on camera!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aware it's been 11 days... the next updates should be more rapid :)

Edward bit his bottom lip, as he did whenever his mind fogged with disquiet. Whereas Bruce noticed, tonight he didn't highlight his sidekick's recurring, stress-induced habit: he was aware entering a building where a hostages situation unfolded is a valid source of anxiety.

Even if Eddie fought _scary_ main Rogues Gallery members, he was Robin for barely a few weeks; Batman couldn't blame him for getting nervous in risky circumstances.

"It'll be alright.", he reassured in a confident tone, snapping the teen out of his reflections.

"Why, are you afraid?", the ginger retorted. "Worry not Bats, I watch over. Your pointy ears are safe with me."

Bruce shook his head with fondness.

The place looked... old. Out of date.

Whilst he tried his best not to let it show, Edward _cringed_ at the sight of these walls covered of faded paints what once animated the rooms via vivid colors.

There are locations he promised himself not to ever visit again, no matter what. Earlier in Gordon's office, he hadn't reacted when he recognized the studios' logo, too caught onto the _energy_ of the deduction and the _urgency_ imposed by this life-or-death affair.

During the drive, he didn't perceive the... trouble, or let's say he pushed it away in a remote cranny of his brain. Always so stubborn, he commanded his mind not to care. When they exited the Batmobile, he braced himself for the view of the small building he loathed.

Nobody cares about your issues linked to kinda _distant_ past., Ed scolded in his head. Don't let Batman think of this as a problem or he'll investigate _your_ case in place of the one at hand.

This place, like others, counts amongst the... relatively _extended_ part of his life he never mentioned to Steph and Jason. Secrets are no more than lies by omission, this one features on his long roster of undisclosed truths. Either ways it belongs to the _past;_ when his siblings and him met Bruce it had been months since he last walked between these poisoned walls.

The Knight has more important to focus on, he won't bother him with his growing awkwardness. Trying to brush his uncomfortable feeling off, Ed looked around.

No guards when they arrived, parked the Batmobile and penetrated the complex. No bystanders outside at this late hour, no traps, at first view, as they silently trekked across the dark corridors.

He began to doubt they landed at the right place, when they heard echos of voices.

Edward took hold of his phasers, shaped in some futuristic-looking _guns._ This is a lost battle: Robin uses non-lethal guns and there is nothing Batman could say against this. That child enjoyed playing with his nerves.

"The room there.", the redhead indicated.

Bruce kicked the door open, a batarang in hand.

That they didn't meet anyone so far doesn't mean this will be easy once at the stage play.

They expected the replica of an hospital room surrounded by cameras, poles and recording material, the hostages lined up just like in the video tapes. However, nothing prepared them for the sight of the hostage takers, who... let go of their weapons the instant they entered, raised their hands up in the 'I surrender' gesture while a pre-recorded noise of laughters and applause erupted from a loudspeaker.

Great, those villains settled an acoustic welcome for the Dynamic Duo as if they slipped into an episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

Needless to say, Bruce was already attacking with the firm intention to knock everyone out, the masked person closest to the entry didn't escape the strong blow which, given the sound, broke cartilage. The man removed his hood, discovering his bleeding nose as he fell on the ground.

"Thank God, you are finally here!", he saluted, conveying a _despair_ that couldn't be faked.

Or if so... he was a damn good actor.

Clearly, Bruce was not buying this weak attempt at winning time.

"Batman!", Robin called. "Wait!"

That didn't spare the dude from receiving the strong kick of a boot in his stomach, blocking his breath and making him curl up on the floor.

Those guys dressed as thugs were no fighters, they were not even...

"Okay.", Edward looked straight into the nearest camera. "Who is in charge?"

The red light indicating it recorded until now disappeared, as if the mechanism has been turned off without warning.

"Oh no, don't you dare leave!", Robin protested. "It started to be interesting!"

Before the entity behind the screens erased their trace, Edward ran toward the control room located behind the recording machines. Right now, knowing the layout of this studio helped: he should be able to catch the signal if he stopped them from deleting their programs. This is an intervention he has the capacity to perform if...

The blast of a moderate explosion caused his feet to detach from the ground.

"Robin!"

The sensation of the hot gust of wind brushing with force against his skin nearly freaked him out, although he wasn't standing close enough to get burned.

"I'm fine...", he backed away, a little dazed.

As if the computer room exploding was a cue to let go, the eight –only two of them spoke for the tapes, but eight people were present on the setting–, broke down completely.

"Batman and Robin!", one of them whined. "You need to help us..."

"What is this?", the Bat growled.

Not granting a glance to the one still on the ground, he grabbed the adult who talked by the collar, roughly took off the black cloth covering their face.

A woman. The hoods they wore must hide a voice simulator: they sounded identical with their masks on.

"Answer me.", he instructed severely. "What. Is. This?!"

She sobbed.

"A contract!", someone else took up for her.

Another woman, looking... very alike with the first one. Probably sisters, maybe cousins.

Edward pointed a phaser gun toward her. There he was, sharing a portion of Bruce's anger: he got mistaken. He thought they'll burst in a scene of newcomers aiming to enter the business, instead they meet a group of terrified _actors_ selected for a _role._

Whoever organized this murderous prank makes _fun of them_ and is apparently not decided to show up. This is more than enough to get irascible.

"A contract?", he quoted, sarcastic. "What _kind_ of contract, someone 'forced' you to kidnap people and shoot them dead one by one?!"

"No... this... this wasn't supposed to happen. It was a time measuring!", the woman defended. "The... boss, wanted to know how long you'd take to intervene. You did better than they thought!"

Edward blinked.

"You.", Batman gestured for... them, whatever they were, to join the hostages. "Untie them."

So much aggressivity surfaced in his tone, they didn't hesitate to achieve his demand.

"Remove your masks." Ed supplemented. "And put on the table there every electronical device you used to communicate."

They didn't need to be asked twice.

The police's sirens shrilled outside. If Gordon let them step in, he was never far behind when it concerns investigations whose starting point is his own _office._ Albeit they played pathfinders to neutralize eventual traps, the Commissioner wouldn't have waited for the Dynamic Duo to deliver the hostage-takers at the GCPD H.Q. Plus the others could require care, an ambulance followed the police cars.

"I keep this.", Edward finalized his shopping among the material in the studio and the hostage takers' equipment.

Gordon frowned.

"An investigation..."

"... doesn't imply keeping duplicates of everything.", the teenager completed. "You don't need the _eight_ devices to make your researches. I am more efficient than any of your detectives, if there is something to dig out of this, I'll find it."

He gazed with regret at the demolished control room.

"I'm afraid there's nothing to save from that mess, though."

He prudently advanced, watching over.

A single glance proved the computers were _dead._ The place transformed slightly from last time he came, particularly over the past minutes when it _exploded._ This used to be an office used by video editors of the low-budget movies recorded here.

Holding back a shiver, Eddie turned around.

"Keep me abreast if your goons find anything.", he concluded, hoping his tone sounded natural despite his unease.

If Bruce noted something, he had the decency not to underline it. As for him, Gordon nodded. The vigilantes rarely stay to clean up after a scheme, when the police collects additional evidences they have to _contact them back_ to communicate new elements of an investigation.

But eh, how to negotiate with them? It's not like they were paid to do the job.

"Someone 'contacted you'?!"

This seemed ridiculous.

"They have our father.", one of the sisters cried.

"My daughter."

"My husband and our son."

"My wife."

"My little brother."

"Our children.", the last two, a couple, rounded off the picture.

Gordon stared wide-eyed.

"What is..."

"We won't fall for that.", Bruce objected harshly. "You _agreed_ to play a part of this, to _kill people_ and send videos to the police, all the while waiting until we found you?! What if we didn't? You would have shot _everyone?!"_

Edward kept quiet.

Something told him they weren't lying. The twenty hostages were designated victims, but the eight persons hired to be the hostage takers? They _were_ victims as well, threatened to go on with a sick game to save what they hold most dear. Now that they unmasked, Ed recognized them, by the way. They are actual actors; not famous, three of them appeared in second-hand shows, one in an advertisement for fragrances.

"Who?", is the single word he asked.

Attention directed back at him.

"Who contacted you?"

"We didn't see their face... We compared, we received the same mail sending a well-paid contract for a miniserie.", a woman explained, the others approved.

"We met at an hotel.", another complemented. "They..."

"One.", Edward cut. "While I _could_ process your versions at the same time, I'm sure they will be pretty similar. So spare my eardrums: one of you relates your experience, may you don't stutter or break down crying, I am not in the mood to play babysitter for grown-up losers."

Bruce didn't bother to correct Robin's attitude: for himself, he wanted to _punch_ some more.

"I guess you didn't keep this mail or printed the contract?"

The person who interrupted, the oldest of the group, shook their head no.

"We arrived at the meeting point, everything was already settled. Then they showed us live action tapes of someone they abducted in our families."

"They know you.", Ed clarified out loud what Bruce and him understood. "The persons behind this, the ones who set up this _trap,_ they studied your profiles. They chose you for you are the type who would cross the line to save what you possess of most... precious; they were coaxed you are ready to take innocents' lives to protect your pressure point. Not everyone would kill to save their relatives, you have been picked because _you_ would."

Some shared a look, then a woman who must be in her early thirties spoke for them all:

"Is there anything you wouldn't do for your family?"

Robin didn't answer.

He didn't need to: those guys are not the matter, they don't know anything.

"What made you believe," Gordon took back, "that they would keep their promise?"

"What other choice did we have?!"

Edward exited the interrogation room.

It's infrequent to have so many persons at once in this space of the GCPD; the individual interrogations will occur later on, they preferred trying with all of them at first.

"How can we be sure they told the truth?"

"By finding their family members who have been kidnapped.", Batman responded to Jim. "No matter what, they killed. Nothing excuses taking a life."

"Except saving another.", Robin contrasted. "I don't defend them.", he specified. "I won't waste my time making moral judgements, that would be useless. About the principle itself nonetheless? Their motive is not unintelligible."

"... I would do whatever it takes to protect my daughter.", the Commissioner realized in a puzzled, pained tone.

"Don't.", Bruce rejected. "You should not wonder about the 'what if' or imagine yourself in a similar situation, _nobody_ can predict how they would behave."

I can., Eddie opposed internally, but kept it for himself. I would burn this whole town to the ground without a second thought to save my family.

__________

"We'll verify their stories, see if it matches."

Edward acquiesced.

It was late, the hostage-takers will spend the night in the GCPD's cells, they won't be released until the investigation pursues.

"Would you kill?", he inquired when Bruce stopped the Batmobile.

The Knight cast him an accusative side glance.

"This is what I _avoid at all costs._ "

"I know... However, if one day this was your sole option not to let Dick or Alfred die. Or Barbara. Or Dent. Could you... not do it? That would be like killing your family by default in place of a stranger."

Bruce fully turned to him, the roof of the Batmobile still closed like a dome above their heads. Eddie shifted on the leather passenger seat, uncomfortable and suddenly very _aware_ of how menacing the Bat's allure is.

"You, Jason and Stephanie."

Ed arched an eyebrow at the unexpected remark, what drew a comical curve on his domino mask.

"Add your names to the list when you refer to the persons I would sacrifice everything for."

Eddie smiled.

"Yours is on mine too.", he mirrored with affection. "But don't take me for a fool: are you trying to distract me with heartwarming words not to answer my question?"

"Is it working?"

Robin stuck out his tongue at him.

"You're a cheater, Bats."

The top of the car pulled up, they got out of the vehicle. They'll have other occasions to relaunch the topic.

"Try to sleep.", he advised gently, Bruce removed his cowl and... sat in front of the computer screens of the Batcave instead of going to bed. "You are not allowed to be a wreck tomorrow, I don't want to do all the job alone."

"I'll check the records. Good night, Ed."

"... Good night.", he refrained a sigh at the neat _closure_ in his eldest's tone.

It would be pointless to argue, Eddie reached the elevator that connects the cave to Wayne Manor. There, he doesn't like this case. Not that tricky affairs don't entertain him, on the contrary! Be that as it may, this one is a bit... gloomy.

Kidnapping always is, but to _kidnap_ the persons charged with killing the hostages on top of that? The prospect sounds like a creepy multi-storey frame-up.

The memories of the studio don't help, either.

Edward shook off the bad vibes, he stripped from his Robin uniform and went on with a quick evening routine. He won't wake them up at this late hour, he simply sneaked a peak in Stephanie's bedroom once he showered and put on clean pajamas.

Not in her bed. With a smile, Ed switched to the _next_ room, the two doors located in front of his suite in the same corridor.

As expected, the little girl switched from her bedroom to her big brother's. Not turning on any light not to disrupt their sleep, he watched the two kids huddled together on the large comfy bed.

"Anything.", he murmured into the soothing darkness of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody can resist some good old family fluff and a pinch of drama for Thanksgiving.

"Daffodils?", Edward smiled upon spotting the massive bunch of bright yellow flowers. "My, my, mister Pennyworth... apparently, being something like two hundred years old hasn't altered your seducer abilities. I didn't know you had fervent _admirers._ "

The butler cast him a reproving glance.

"These are not for me I'm afraid.", he brushed the teasing off in a deadpan manner, as he poured water into the elegant, ancient vase he selected to receive the fresh flowers. "An anonymous morning arrival, someone delivered this charming bouquet at the Manor.", he informed him. "We found our table centerpiece for tonight's dinner."

Eddie decided to keep messing with him, when a little blonde storm appeared by his side.

"Heya!", she greeted energetically.

"Morning Steph!", Ed addressed her a warm smile.

"Miss Stephanie."

"That's a great big bunch of flowers!", she noticed the new element of the main dining room, curious about its presence here.

"It's from Alfred's secret girlfriend, she wishes him a happy Thanksgiving."

"You have a secret girlfriend?! Tell me everything! Is she a badass British spy like you?"

Edward chuckled; the butler shot him a murderous glare clearly saying 'wait until I get my revenge, we'll see who has the last laugh'.

Then he had no other choice but to disabuse Stephie, who jumped on the occasion to harass him for details. As ever, she expressed an overflowing enthusiasm over _everything._

__________

"Are ya... nervous?"

"Why would I be 'nervous'?", Bruce discarded the suggestion as if it was a silly assumption.

"Cuz we'll meet yar bestie.", Jason shrugged. "You want him ta appreciate us, you wonder how the encounter between yar old friend and new friends will go."

"Harvey and I are not _children._ He knows about you, I briefed him on our situation. Although it's a recent dossier, your siblings and you's official status has been regularized as my wards; I won't introduce you as 'friends', that's not who you are to me legally speaking. You are family."

"Then _why_ are ya anxious, big guy?", Jay offered him a wide snotty grin. "Are you afrai' we won't behave well?"

"... You are not helping."

The ten years old pushed forward until his eldest, tired of his look-at-me-when-I-will-provoke-complications mood, grabbed him by the middle and lifted him effortlessly to make him land on a large shoulder. The boy kicked, he protested heavily between two bursts of laughter.

"Oh no!", he wriggled like a squirrel as Bruce carried him out of his office. "A vampire kidnaps me! Somebody heeeeelps!"

He guffawed when Bruce came to the kitchen where Alfred, Edward and Stephanie prepared tonight's reception.

That is to say: Steph watched them, sipping a mug of hot chocolate and criticizing what they do while drawing in a notebook. Meanwhile, the butler and the young genius argued over... the consistency of a cranberry sauce, Ed wanted it 'more liquid' whilst Alfred wished to keep it 'thick and creamy'.

"You forgot this.", Bruce interrupted, he put a giggling Jason down like he would with a potato bag, three pairs of eyes turned toward them. "... Is everything alright?", he frowned mildly at his mentor's pinched expression and his teenage son's frustrated attitude, whose right foot tapped hysterically against the kitchen's black and white cement tiles what artistically mix floral and geometrical motifs.

"They're so funny!", Stephie pointed to the cooks with her thumb. "One chef in charge of dinner, that works. Two who have different methods and opinions on _everything_ albeit in the end, they follow the _same_ recipe? That's hilarious, we should record them and post the video on YouTube."

Jason laughed some more, he perched on a stool next to his sister to enjoy the show. Bruce smiled.

"That's it, go ahead: make fun of us!", Ed exclaimed dramatically at the blue-eyed squad. "This _oaf_ disrespects my version of a Thanksgiving dinner and questions my cooking capacities! It's a _scandal,_ I demand you remedy the outrage I suffer."

"I made an _observation_ about a _sauce._ ", the butler minimized, exasperated. "If your ego can't swallow this, I wonder _how_ you'll handle _actual reproaches_ in your life."

"You also panned my mushroom filling!", Edward cried out. "You unjustly accused its components not to be at a _proportionate_ _enough_ quantity! Poor thing is young and innocent, it's intolerable it underwent such insults!"

"Terrific.", Jason jeered, what Ed took at its proper sense so he supplemented:

"Exactly! I can't believe my undisputable talents are unfairly decried!"

Then he snapped back at Jaybird who chuckled:

"Wait, that 'terrific' was _sarcasm,_ right?"

"Wow, Ginger.", he smirked. "I'm impressed, how did ya find that out?"

"Everyone is against me!", he whined pitifully, this caused an understandable wave of laughters.

Cheerful from Jay and Steph, calm but warm from Bruce, collected from Alfred.

Having recourse to the contrary of a mature reaction, Eddie crossed his arms on his chest and _pouted._ His high ponytail bounced when he turned his head to the side, vexed; before they finalized the dinner making, smiling in the friendly atmosphere.

On the morning, under Ed's surveillance, the younger ones assisted him for the dessert. As ever when baking, they had fun playing with the ingredients. At some point, Eddie drew flour lines on their nose after Steph and Jay smashed the eggs too messily: with a spoon they had to fish the fragments of shells that fell in the large bowl of sticky substance about to become the cake's paste.

It's during the afternoon, for the creation of the main dish, that Alfred and Edward quarreled.

A luck it'll be a dinner for _seven persons,_ not... twenty or more, otherwise given the time they wasted in petty arguments, they wouldn't have managed to fulfill the preparation.

It already occurred that those two disagree on the kitchen topic, being both self-proclaimed –and as wholeheartedly attested by their relatives– _awesome cooks._ They eventually settled for compromises over the making of the traditional turkey and its attached meals, they all spent a sympathetic afternoon which turned slightly chaotic in the _fun_ sense of the term.

"May I do yours?"

Eddie's inquiry got punctuated by Stephanie and Jason's laugh as Bruce responded via a fierce bat-glare.

" _No._ ", he rejected categorically.

"That's precisely what Alfred answered, on the same statue-like lifeless tone.", Steph recounted. "You guys never did manicures'n stuff?"

Whereas she teased, nothing bloomed on her hands or Jason's. Even as a joke and even if the children are significantly ahead of their age, Ed considers them _too young_ to step in the superficial field. Not to add, neither Jay nor Stephie found it interesting. At their age and given their temper, they are not the type who cares about their appearance, it just amused them the few times they caught Eddie playing diva with makeup.

This doesn't happen anymore since they moved to the Manor, though. Before they did, the kids knew that when their big brother went out, especially during evenings, he often wore makeup and kept girls attires in his bag.

Not that they ever got why or what he did, and honestly this hasn't provided them food for thought in _months._

Right now... it was casual fun; Edward didn't put anything on his face, he used a small pot of eggplant-colored liquid.

Bruce frowned at the view of said substance spread on its due body parts.

"Where did you find nail polish?!"

"I go to the _stores._ ", he snorted. "As it seems, dashing playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne cannot be seen at a _supermarket_ doing something as ordinary as _shopping_ like the mass of mundane human beings. I take the risk to disappoint: the cupboards aren't filled by magic, there are no elfs taking care of cooking your dinner, and your clothes aren't autonomous to jump inside the washing machines plus to fold themselves back in your wardrobe."

Bruce barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"I am _aware._ Still, I would have liked to _know_ you squander my money for futile things like... nail polish."

Ed arched an orange eyebrow.

"... Seriously? You are one of the richest persons in United States, in the _world_ even, your company has never been so flourishing, you regularly throw parties with celebrities, and for yourself you spend _thousands_ in your 'night activities' involving a complete, high-tech overpriced equipment with gadgets, vehicles and costumes. But you're gonna... blame me for this four-dollars nail polish pot? Wanna know, I also bought a bottle of _nail polish remover._ I regret nothing."

Bruce must admit, he behaved like an idiot there. Not that he'll apologize; nonetheless he didn't correct the teen's conceited tone, knowing Eddie was _right._

"Do you... ever go to the stores?", Stephanie elected to underline. "If you do, you'd be the kind to pay _twice_ every price, you have no idea what basic merchandises cost. Sellers can change the tags or add a zero to each when they see you, you wouldn't realize it."

"Yeah...", Jason mocked. "I'm sure someone could sell ya an apple for ten dollars."

"That _wouldn't happen._ "

"Sure it wouldn't.", Stephie validated. "Because you _don't go_ to the stores."

The trio giggled, Bruce allowed himself a small smile. True thing, Eddie _loves_ the shopping trips with Alfred, even when it's simply to fill the kitchen stocks. Although Bruce never came with him, he listened to the redhead reporting excitedly the stops they did in luxury clothing shops for him and his kids, who were far less impressed: to them clothes are... clothes, they don't see the advantage of having diverse outfits or quality fabric. Edward on the other hand, had been so happy to step in upscale boutiques and buy furnitures there for the first time in his life.

Even if he preferred skin-tight jeans, he gave a try to suits, like the eggplant one he'll put on this evening and a black one he hadn't had the occasion to hang out with yet.

Tonight he took the opportunity to wear this dark purple suit, with a white shirt, white tie and white belt. As a result, he did his nails in consequence. Same goes for his future apparition on TV: he wanted to look _perfect_ the day Bruce accepts Miss Vale leads an interview with his wards.

For now, the Bat gazed at the expertly applied purple fluid on Robin's nails, he stored it among the long list of 'when / how / why did you learn to do this?' questions he'll ask the boy one day.

"It's... pretty.", he commented flatly, clueless over what else he could say.

He had no judgment on this except for the fact it's too... girly for his taste, he supposed highlighting this out loud could be badly construed.

"It'll match with my sleeveless suit jacket, pants and shoes.", Ed explained, pleased with himself and his chosen purple and white color code.

Bruce didn't reply, even if he felt... content, his foster children take this Thanksgiving seriously.

He'll introduce them as his wards, to someone dear to him. They wanted the first impression to go smooth. Things to be... fine.

In spite of his good will, when Harvey Dent and his girlfriend arrived, Edward's initial consideration was that the gossip has a point: the sexy lawyer and handsome billionaire would be _hot as Hell_ together if they became a couple.

Because yes, he reads tabloid press. An habit he practiced less since he lived here; before that Ed browsed through numerous pictures, theories and 'articles' starring the best friends and showing them... in a secret relationship, no more and no less. Of course this was nothing tangible, merely gossip rumors. Notwithstanding this, Eddie _could not not think of it_ right away when he saw the two men sharing an embrace.

If anyone asked, he might be a fanboy, like every stars-follower involved in celebrities' personal lives.

But hush, Bruce didn't need to know that.

If Stephanie, Jason and Edward met Harvey Dent this evening, there is someone _everyone_ met: Gilda Gold, Dent's girlfriend.

Snow White.

This is the picture that instantly popped up in Edward's mind: physically speaking she resembles the heroine, her black hair frizzed in a retro touch where the strands brush against the top of her shoulders, circling her _snow white_ skin, blood red lips and piercing grey eyes. Her cloud-like blue and grey dress complemented the well-groomed appearance.

His siblings visibly thought the same, Steph prompted straightforwardly while they walked to the dining room:

"Are you a princess? You could totally be a princess."

"Yeah, ya look like Snow White."

"Among other topics, I am weak for fairy tales and I love Disney classics.", Edward excused the intrusive inputs. "You can blame on me everything they say or do."

Far from getting offended, Gilda laughed sweetly, then joked over the fact if she is a princess, that makes Harvey her Prince Charming.

The champagne flute Batman held and was about to serve for their guests _broke,_ crushed in the strong grip.

"My bad..."

In reaction, the district attorney dug out anecdotes, apparently it's _not the first time_ Bruce crushes glasses accidentally.

Mental note: Robin inferred he'll query how parties went when they were at university. The vision of students Dent and Wayne getting drunk possesses a... kinda _priceless_ dimension.

Harvey related an unfortunate chemistry event during which breaking glass was about the _least_ clever idea, their science teacher scolded both of them while technically, _Bruce_ was the one to blame.

"He is a troublemaker."

"And ya follow him.", Jason deduced.

"Every time! You can conclude a lot about me out of this."

This lightened the mood; perky, Jay and Steph harassed the couple with questions.

Soon enough, it appeared evident Bruce loves to evoke his shared memories with Harv, but gets short-tempered when _Gilda_ talks, or, worse: when Harvey speaks of _Gilda and him,_ proving how they get along or hints their plans together.

Edward congratulated himself to be sitting on Bruce's left (the owner of the place naturally picked the seat at the head of the table). His right hand could discreetly apply a slight pressure on Bruce's knee, he silently tapped morse code against his dark blue pant leg.

Finding out Ed learned morse code on his own years ago had been an amusing discovery. A very useful skill, as Bruce valued, particularly in their line of work. Thereupon Batman had asked his sidekick why or with who he studied this language, he obtained nothing more than evasive answers. He'll try another day.

Their gazes met.

 _'Not now.',_ Edward communicated wordlessly, his middle finger rapidly notched the bits. _'Wait until they're gone to evaluate the problem.'_

He removed his hand to easily focus on the conversation. At his left, Stephanie inquired how the two met, Gilda narrated the tale, her drive making the whole thing sound... adorable. So was Harvey, with his enamored comments. At present, he was closer to a schoolgirl with a crush than to a famous defender of justice and beloved mediatic face known by every citizen in town. This is incredibly _cute,_ to see this grown man behaving like a teen on their first dates.

Robin crossed his fingers mentally: he hoped he was the only one who noticed how angry and jealous Bruce has grown.

This is blatant in his demeanor, _why_ isn't he making an effort to hide his deception, envy and... absolute rage against that woman Dent covered in praises.

Ed found a loophole when he asked the Bat to join in the kitchen whilst Gilda evoked her father, a soldier until he retired; what gave Alfred an angle to talk about his time in the British army.

"We're taking care of the dessert, Alfred.", he assured. "Would be a shame to cut you in your brilliant military successes."

Bruce didn't wait, he disappeared from the dining room a _tab too fast_ for it not to look like... he escaped. Stupid Bats, Eddie disapproved internally. How can you be so careful and radiating confidence when you wear your cape and cowl, while you are... awkward and weird when you're just _Bruce_ in what should be a _normal_ context.

As soon as they materialized in the kitchen, out of ears' reach, Edward hissed, looking him dead in the eyes:

"What are you doing?! You feared this evening would be strange because of us acting childish? _You_ are the one who behaves dumb and irresponsible!"

"I don't..."

The adult looked over his shoulder, as to make sure his guests won't detect the words. Except if they have super-earing, there is _no chance_ they could.

"I worry for Harvey.", he established a catch-all reality to justify his attitude. "This Gilda..."

"... is a nice, cultivated person with whom he ostensibly has a lot in common and who he loves sincerely."

Edward offered Bruce an apologetic smile.

"Sorry about this. I know it's hard, but you can't predict attraction or control others' feelings."

"... Why would I want to do that? I have no interest in her."

"Sure... not _her._ ", Robin conflicted when his eldest left with the silver trail holding the cake.

Batman's swift pace substantiated his _refusal_ to linger on the subject, like a kid who believes running from his problems is an option in place of facing them.

Is Bruce in denial or genuinely _not seeing_ his frustration is akin to a scorned lover's rather than just a friend who doesn't get along with his buddy's romantic partner?

While the evening extended at Wayne Manor, in Arkham asylum, one patient _smiled._

He was there for ten days; his escape is ready, he'll put it into action tomorrow.

What he didn't foresee however, is to receive a present.

No address, no name, no letter or small note: everything that is consigned to the asylum is opened, read, analyzed if required, by the staff, before being delivered to the inmates. Therefore... this packet displayed nothing that could betray its provenance or the identity of its sender.

"I guess it's another obsessed university student.", the guard who gave him the box earlier clinched. "When they don't beg you to take your job back because they are 'dying to follow your courses', they bake you _cookies_ for Thanksgiving. You're luckier than I am... in my apartment, there's just my goldfish Eric waiting for me. I bet he won't have cooked my dinner."

Jon didn't bother to answer. Adam Hendricks is half-way through a depressed state what should be treated if it worsens and the perpetual mood of 'screw society, it's not my fault I don't fit'. If that blond, doll-looking man acquired some nerves, he might as well become a villain.

If he did, no rogue would hold against him his job at Arkham: Hendricks counts among the rare _actually amiable_ staff members.

Alone in his cell in the dark after curfew, sitting on his bunk, Scarecrow felt invaded by a pleasant, tranquil _happiness._

Needless to ponder who sent this, he knew it doesn't come from a worshipper or a bold pupil. Sometimes, students write him _heated_ letters that made him truly uncomfortable at the beginning; by now, he finds it rewarding whenever he reads praises or smexy messages.

Jonathan brought a tasty round cake to his lips.

Thank you, Edward dearest., he acknowledged tenderly in his head. The gesture is surprising but... greatly appreciated.

He hasn't asked the kid to send him anything when incarcerated. Nevertheless, being gifted with homebaked pumpkin cookies as a Thanksgiving dessert is a touching attention.

In a few hours he'll be out, afterwards he will make sure to thank his boy when they see each other again.

__________

"Again?"

"Yup, Alfie sai' it's an 'anonymous mornin' arrival'.", Jason repeated, proud he got the phrasing right. "How was da case? We didn't see Bruce'n ya yesterday evenin'."

"Complicated and unfinished.", Edward sighed, he sat with his little brother on their favorite living room's couch. "Plus too creepy for my taste."

"Creepy is Batman's specialty."

The two shared an amused glance.

A new bouquet of daffodils, less garnished than the one forwarded two days ago for Thanksgiving, decked the designer low table made of glass and golden brass.

"I wished I had time to investigate over this mysterious sender.", he indicated the yellow flowers via a movement of the chin. "Sounds far less scary than our current affair."

"Far less Robin-like, too.", Stephanie opposed, she stepped in the living room on time to hear his reflection. "I don't think the Boy Wonder position implies playing... florist. Except if it's Poison Ivy-related."

"True point.", he conceded with delicacy.

Pace these legit facts, their faceless daffodils consignor and Bruce's closeted bisexuality coming with his neat _unadmitted romantic attraction_ for his best friend, are cases Edward would love to spend time and energy on. Oh and, his... hum... 'secret boyfriend' texted him an address tonight, to let him know where they can meet over the incoming days.

Crane lost no time between escaping and settling in an hideout, he was out for less than twenty-four hours when he restored a contact with him. Eddie felt... rather _flattered_ he must say, that the good doctor thought about him that fast.

Therefore, his everyday life brings its share of conundrums which are more rejoicing to examine than what he'll work on today: hostage-takers' version of why _they_ are the victims, Bruce and him trying to gather clues to decipher how to proceed, his personal issues he _couldn't let the Bat glimpse_ if they had to go back to the studio and the aim to uncover who is behind this masquerade.

Yup... busy schedule on the way.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A necessary transition chapter... with some names that may ring a bell.

"Her husband is the director of the studio?"

Jim nodded.

"Sounds logical when we think of it: they worked together for years, moved in, had a child... they married a few months ago."

Edward's hands clung to the edge of the desk so tight his knuckles turned a paler shade of white under his green gloves.

"Paige 'Monroe' from her maiden surname and Daniel Mockridge.", the Commissioner showed photos, not noticing Robin's tense attitude or if he did, not paying increased attention to it. "With their son, David Mockridge."

Forever the 'model pupil' type, Gordon did his homeworks: when they met again he already pulled together the hostage takers' profiles and verified their identities. Every abducted person they mentioned matches with one or two family members of theirs.

Yesterday Ed hadn't recognized the woman whose husband and son have been kidnapped. On TV, he saw her in local advertisements but never bothered to check her name. Would he have done it, he couldn't have associated it directly if he didn't do researches.

'Mockridge' may be not the most common surname around, it's not _that_ rare, is it?

There however... no doubt left: Gordon took the time to fish images, he attested that indeed, the missing persons haven't been seen over the past seventy-two hours.

"Alright.", Robin concluded. "You did your job, anything else on the crime scene?"

The policeman shook his head no.

"Then let's wait.", the sidekick cast the issue out. "Our player will show up again, there's not much to do yet."

"And you?", Jim returned the question to the two of them. "What else are you going to do?"

"Nothing.", Ed cringed. "The hostages returned to their home and the GCPD is in charge of their protection plus follow-up. You didn't find the e-mails those fake thugs pretended they received and there are no hidden clues in the video tapes. I don't see what we should..."

"We'll take a look at their places.", Batman interrupted calmly.

He was about to add something when... out of the blue, a _dog_ barged messily in their direction. Eddie startled, he instinctively recoiled when the drool-dripping thing entered the office's open door.

Bruce's firm voice ordered the monster to stay put; a policewoman advanced to grab the hound's leach.

" _Who_ is in charge of that?!", detective Renee Montoya shouted, addressing a group of colleagues she saw from the doorframe of the Commissioner's office.

No answer, she kept an iron grip on the beast she controlled via severe orders. Ostensibly, she knows how to deal with dogs.

"Hello Jim... and you guys.", she greeted them dryly. "Apparently the GCPD is _also_ intended to watch over _criminals' animals._ "

"Mockridge's.", Gordon told them. "Mrs Mockridge begged for someone to go to her house earlier, her dog stayed locked inside since she has been contacted days ago."

"But for whatever reason.", Montoya grumbled. "They brought it _here._ "

"No problem.", her superior assured. "Hopefully things will evolve for that one too."

It was a minor incident, nothing alarming. The Dynamic Duo was done collecting infos, Jim and Renee shared light talks... Batman discerned Ed's _alert gaze,_ out of place in the current context.

"Hey.", he said slowly, he put a hand on Robin's cape between his shoulderblades, applying a soothing pressure there.

"M'fine.", he stuttered... and jerked when the dog barked again.

Bruce fully turned to him, blocking his view on the canid. The cops didn't note anything abnormal as they left the GCPD.

Always the thing for drama: Batman disappears when people aren't watching. When he is with someone, he has to scoop them up and bring them alongside with him in synchronization for his move to be effective.

Eddie didn't mock the habit today, as they landed on the side alley where the Knight parked the Batmobile.

"Are you afraid of dogs?"

"I am afraid of dangerous things who risk to bite me, disfigure me, inflict me serious wounds and potentially kill me.", Robin replied, laconic.

The upper part of the sorta _cabin_ that is this odd and overequipped vehicle closed automatically once they settled inside.

"... I don't like dogs.", he admitted, he leaned against the comfy leather seat. "They are simple-minded, loud, they stink and they _chase_ cats and birds! They'd do the same with bats and rodents. As a cat whose little brother and sister are birds and whose... half-dads half-great friends are a bat and a bat-butler, it's normal I dislike them."

Batman smiled.

"Well worry not, kitten I try to pass off as a robin," he jested, "no dog can enter here."

Edward huffed.

"It's not a phobia.", he bespoke nonetheless. "I know weaknesses of this caliber are important for you to memorize, in case we stumble upon something _triggering_ during an investigation."

Not that he shared his every traumas with Bruce –far from it...–, yet they had a session of this kind. The Bat confessed he is afraid of some situations and... snake-clowns, if that means anything. In return, Edward confirmed what his eldest learned already: he spent his childhood being talked down by his parents, beaten up by his dad and bullies, having zero assistance from grown-ups, so he... tends to judge adults a bit _harshly._

Not really an inducer ground, more like a justification for peaks of anger. Ed also evoked his anxiety, paranoia, plus how unfinished business stresses him, he needs things to get... completed.

Closure.

There again, not an area that could alter his discernment during an affair. He made it transparent he is afraid of spiders though, and that he doesn't like insects ( _yes,_ spiders are not insects, that doesn't change the fact he likes neither bugs nor arachnids). He kept the rest hidden.

"So... if we meet a dog during an intervention or at a villain's plan, I won't turn around, run away and leave you alone to face eventual, incoming _complications._ "

"Good to know."

Rogues set up colorful, giant _schemes_ in town, meaning they are... easy to spot. Generally, even when their location is not explicit at first, not much time elapses between the moment of their main action and the arrival of vigilantes into their chosen stage.

On the other hand, for criminals for whom showing their face is _not_ a priority, –the contrary: they play on the long run, they don't aspire to make a personal appearance, solely to stay dissimulated not to get caught– it's logical cases take longer.

Sometimes they are even... never solved.

Albeit Edward doesn't have this frustrating experience for the time being, he is aware not every serial killer has been arrested; some who committed horrible acts didn't have witnesses or erased their tracks.

From what he instinctively inferred about their amateur Jigsaw nevertheless, they are the profile who will _reappear,_ sooner than later, in order to append a new piece to the puzzle.

__________

"We don't need to be _two._ ", Eddie sneered. "No offense, I don't require your help to pick locks and collect clues in _empty houses._ "

Bruce didn't contest.

"Although Gordon did his job, I would like we examine _each_ the eight's residences.", he logged the locations in the Batmobile's control board. "There might be something simple he missed which would seem relevant to us."

"Agree. I go for Brown, Penman and Mockridge. I let you the sisters, the boring couple and the last one."

"Why this repartition?"

"The sisters live together and so do the parents, so that will make three houses each to comb if you take them. Brown and Penman lodge in the same building, I find it coherent to take care of both. Leave me at their street, I'll let you know when I dug out valuable informations.", he ended on a smug note then relaunched: "Why, you want to exchange one of yours?"

"... Works for me. Is Brown..."

"Not that I'm aware.", Eddie responded before he formulated the full question. "Arthur Brown is an only child, I don't know much about his parents. From what he told me, he separated from them when he was eighteen after a violent fight; I don't know if his father has siblings who could have had children sharing Stephanie's last name. I concede, I am curious: if she has cousins, it may be not an optimal way to meet them, I long to get to the bottom of this affair."

"It's interesting indeed."

"Sure, 'Brown' is a rife surname.", he granted. "Fat chance those people are related to her, but if so, I wanna know."

They didn't interrogate the hostage takers, going directly to their places will be more efficacious. The fact there is a 'Charles Brown' amongst the group piqued his curiosity. From what Arthur shared with him over the years they've been... friends, then the time they distanced emotionally after Stephanie's birth, he referred to his parents at sparse occasions. To put it roughly: they are bastards (and it's Cluemaster who defines this, it says everything about the kind of persons his parents are...) who still live in Gotham.

Ed didn't know their name, he never insisted on the subject: when he was a kid, to him not getting along with one's parents appeared an _established normalcy._ Art never mentioned siblings, it's reasonable to assume he is an only child. As for potential uncles or aunts he might have? Perhaps this Charles belongs to a branch.

"Use your cane if you opt for the stairs.", Bruce demanded as he stopped the Batmobile in front of the building.

Knowing Robin, he won't have recourse to his grapple hook, so... elementary precaution: the two apartments he'll visit are at rather high floors.

"Yes _sir._ ", the teenager jeered. "I'll walk with it... and take the elevator. Unless it's broken, it will be more rapid than climbing twenty stories."

Bruce didn't comment, he made sure the boy entered the hall before heading to another part of the city. Much to Batman's annoyance, they were again directing interventions in _daylight._

Once in the entry hall, Ed's cane-gadget unfolded. He upgraded the system for the item not to hamper his movements: now the question mark-shaped handle rested on a pouch on his belt, he just had to press a button to unfold it.

Technically, his left leg _healed,_ from a months-old double fracture; he didn't need to walk with a cane anymore. Better be safe than sorry though: for movements like climbing or descending stairs, he'll keep it over the incoming weeks. Being in the last days of November, they deemed to maintain the cane habit over December is a wise decision.

Ed appreciated not meeting anyone in the elevator. He alit at the fifth floor where a woman named Linda Penman lived, he'll go to the twentieth afterwards.

Four doors by story led to the apartments; he picked the lock of the one he aimed in a few seconds. There again, not a practical tip he acquired from Batman's training. While Bruce provided purposeful tricks for complex locks, he _judged him_ when he comprehended breaking in at a house was not unknown to Edward.

"We all have our talents.", Eddie had boasted that day. "Not that I should be especially proud of this one, but entering wherever I want has its... satisfying side."

"How did you learn? And... why?", Bruce frowned.

"Take a wild guess.", he offered him his best pretentious smile.

"You did so to... steal?!"

Whereas Edward left the question open, his snarky expression unambiguously reflected a positive answer.

"I learned ta steal!", Jason added his touch, Steph and him participated eagerly to this session. "At first it was ta enter people's house at night to rob food in their kitchen."

"As for me, Eddie showed me.", she completed. "I may never breaked in at a stranger's, I _could do it_ easily."

"... Lovely lessons you bestowed to your siblings."

"You don't say.", Edward approved with pride. "I taught them useful things."

Ed smiled upon reliving this funny exchange.

At present, in the one-bedroom sized apartment, he felt... perplexed.

Linda Penman lives here with her wife, the person abducted.

He expected some banal decoration in their dwelling; Linda played in low-budget movies, the kind where she ended up taking off her bra to expose her generous (probably a result of plastic surgery...) female attributes. Gordon briefed them on the other family members for each: her wife, with whom she is married for over a year, works at a clothes boutique.

As Ed would recap: _not a fascinating couple._ So why is their flat so unsettling?!

"What's up with the Joker?"

The Prince of Crime was _everywhere._ Pictures, drawings, themed objects, extracts from articles pinned on boards, scary red smiles drawn onto the walls. Eddie shivered. Notwithstanding he never stepped in a worshipper's home before, he was aware the main rogues have devoted fans _crazy about them_ all over the town... and probably outside Gotham.

No sign of fight, either the kidnappers cleaned off or nothing happened in these rooms.

A particularly creepy Joker face gave the impression he riveted his eyes on him, Robin left the living room with the disturbing sensation to be _watched._

He hated everything about this place.

Although the bedroom was less crammed, photos of the psychopath blossomed there too. They were supplemented by sets of... purple attires. Edward stared at the suits folded in the wardrobe. Were those women into cosplay, or do they provide an... hideout for the clown?!

The hair on the back of his neck raised. What if... it was precisely this? That women and men in the city _are_ helpers of Joker's... Perhaps of other villains' as well! Would Scarecrow...

No. He brushed the thought off. Jon wouldn't... seek assistance with deranged fans. Right?

He combed the bedroom and rejoiced when he came by an essential element. Not everyone writes it, he _hoped_ he'll discovered one. He moved piles of clothes, the bedside table...

Found it!

On the floor, Ed slithered under the large bed.

Dust, my old enemy., he winced at the sight of this space apparently forsaken by vacuums for an eternity.

At least he got his hands on it: fixed via a strap on the slats beneath the bed.

"Tell me what dirty little secret you hide...", he smiled at the thick notebook.

He sat on the mattress with it.

A diary often says a lot. What this one contained is _terrifying._ After merely four pages, Edward realized his throat went dry and his heartbeat increased. When he understood what it's about, he scooped the book. For... further reading later.

Sneak peek in the kitchen. Nothing to visually select there aside from a modest bouquet of wilted flowers. In the variety he spotted a daffodil, clamped between lilies and snapdragonflowers.

Even if Charles 'Chuck' Brown's place didn't teach him anything, it turned out an _amusing_ visit.

At the twentieth floor, someone waited for the elevator, she opened eyes wide as saucers upon seeing him.

"Robin?!"

"I am on a mission.", he cut short the exchange.

The young woman (Ed would say she is around twenty five years old) blinked.

"Is there... a bad guy to catch here?"

"Don't worry.", he offered her a cocky grin. "If there is one, I'll find them. Now I would _love_ to make conversation, but... duty calls."

"My place.", she pointed to the door next to Brown's apartment. "If I can... assist you."

" _Maybe_ you could. Do you have anything to say about your neighbors the Browns?"

"They're special!", she jumped on the occasion as if she dreamed to rat on. "The boy is cute, his big brother is... odd. I don't think they are true brothers.", she specified in the 'I-share-a-confidence' tone. "Their age gap is too much, this cover is not convincing. Moreover he does bunch of weird stuff all nights, he must be an engineer during his free time. I guess he works on robots given the metal and mechanic noises. Once I asked him to lower the volume."

"... Valuable.", Edward scoffed, he kept for himself a raising offensive remark about how this woman is _not in a NCIS episode,_ she doesn't have to fake being a witness who communicates priceless informations to detectives. "Anything else? Something strange lately, or... stranger than usual?"

"Not really. There's this handsome guy who visited last week. Not like Brown at all. If they hanged out, they would be... the most striking duo of friends ever."

"Care to describe him?"

She did so. Not that Ed believed this to be a lead; still, some extra informations couldn't hurt.

"Thanks, miss..."

"Blazedale."

She extended an arm.

"Jane Blazedale."

"Thank you for your time, Miss Blazedale.", Edward shook her hand.

She grew vaguely hysterical when they shared a contact, he was not tempted by prolonging the encounter. He cared about his reputation of gentleman though, so he acted polite until she left; thereafter he went straight to the door pick the lock.

Brown's place is a two bedrooms-sized apartment... which looks like the foxhole of a madman obsessed with technology.

"Another regular Gothamite..."

Eddie came to terms with how he _appreciated_ most stuff here: meaningless yet distracting commodities such as robots alarm clocks, customized horns, self-made radio sets, electrical forks and spoons... he may didn't find anything revolutionary, he had fun browsing through the objects.

This Chuck Brown is someone he could get along with. Ed stole a backpack from one of his cupboards to store Linda's diary as well as five of Chuck's smaller creations.

A notable thing: one toy is _everywhere,_ a variant present in all the rooms.

"This guy has a problem with kites..."

And so... Daniel Mockridge has a family. A wife. A son. A dog. A house. A... life.

Edward felt truly uncomfortable when he snooped around the rooms of this pretty abode sited in a classic residential district.

By the way, he took the bus. This venue is at a few stations from the previous building, he hadn't bothered to call Batman. He was glad he didn't: he enjoyed being a little headliner in the bus.

Why aren't Barbara and Bruce taking advantage of this aspect of the vigilante life? People love them! They ask for _autographs!_

It had been incredibly gratifying to take selfies with high schoolers, who were both surprised and proud to be talked to _nicely_ by a hero instead of witnessing the bats' habitual grumpiness they saw on TV whenever a journalist attempted an interview of Batman, Batgirl or the former Robin.

"Of course you can post these on your tumblr!", Eddie responded enthusiastically to the teen who took a selfie of them smiling widely like two besties, after they did a group photo. "I'll be disappointed if you don't.", he winked, what made the friends laugh, delighted with their bus trip today.

Boosted by the refreshing interactions, Robin was smiling when he arrived; he didn't waste time with bystanders to enter the property and traverse the reduced albeit quaint garden surrounding it.

Edward browsed through the studio director's office.

Videos. Lots of videos, recording material, a computer... a secret compartment he wasn't long to ferret out, behind the DVD library.

A cardboard box of DVDs with hand-written titles. Ed lifted up the entire box –luckily it's not too heavy...– to bring it to the living room.

Then he switched to the parents' bedroom.

Nothing unusual. Too much _lingerie,_ but no salient item.

Finishing by the four years old son's room, Ed wondered if this boy is... in danger at the place he calls 'home'. Could Mockridge... hurt him? Or plan to do so when he'll be slightly older?

Despite actively searching for evidences to attest the child could be abused in any sense of the term, Edward found none. He only met photo albums of the family: various pics of the parents, the son and the dog, plus an old couple occasionally, most likely Paige's birthers given some features reminiscient of the woman's.

Toys for the kid, books, DVDs, nice clothing and rather elegant furnitures. Everything displayed a typical middle class situation. The entire house smelled of healthy environment for an average family with parents in their early thirties, their young child and their pet.

Everything is... neat.

The atmosphere radiated love and peace. 

Edward was proud of himself because he had stopped crying and his voice didn't shake when Bruce picked him up after he ended his own part of the investigation.

__________

"The neighbor's dog bit me on the calf when I was little."

"Oh."

"In itself, it's nothing. Dad drove me to the hospital, I inherited of stitches and blood tests to make sure I didn't catch a disease because of that demented creature. Turned out the thing was cleaner than it looked; by now the remaining scars are minimal."

To prove his statement, Ed rolled up his pant leg (wearing something else than a jean helped...), to reveal small marks whose origin couldn't have been guessed if it wasn't for the explanation. The faded spots that dotted his milky skin were almost invisible.

"See? Cats, birds and bats can get along. But dogs attack cats."

"I get it.", Bruce validated.

Edward came to Steph and Jay's school with Alfred, they spent the end of afternoon having fun at Wayne Manor.

When Batman joined, they swapped from games in the mansion's garden-that-is-a-giant-park to a living room. They chatted about the case, in a lighter tone for the children. Bruce mentioned the dog episode earlier, Jason and Stephanie shared a glance then eyed Eddie with a mild concern.

"Is..."

"If figures among Ed's warnings.", Stephanie said with delicacy. "In fact it's one of the _few_ precise anecdotes we know about his childhood; that and his general, absolutely not detailed and totally impersonate summary, the same he served to Alfred and you.", she took the opportunity to tease his secretive habits. "Unless it's with someone you know, and even if you must stay _cautious,_ don't approach dogs."

"Yeah... lots of people train them ta attack.", Jason reinforced. "Once I almost got caught by a pitbull in a house. I was stealin' in their fridge, didn't see da monster."

"You were stealing in someone's fridge.", Batman outlined bluntly.

"... It was anterior ta Eddie'n Steph. I stole _other stuff_ after. At least I became careful 'bout dogs. Not all o'them are mean, in a park I met a labrador dat was the sweetest thing ever one day. She was with her humans, they let me play with her durin' their stroll."

Thereupon Edward disclosed his unfortunate encounter with his neighbor's dog, back at before he lived in Gotham, to explain the starting point of his apprehension to the Bat.

"For once," he joked faintly, "my father and I agreed on something: mutual hatred over that neighbor. She sold her house and left after the accident. Apparently I wasn't the first child her dog bit, she preferred the 'disappearing' option rather than to risk a complaint and eventual legal action. But there.", he stretched. "Worry not for future cases, I don't lose all my senses when I see a big dog. I am simply prudent."

"Understandable."

They shared a complicit smile. Whereas Bruce tried to get rid of the feeling, it... was a bit difficult right now: he wished he would have met them _sooner._

He knew it was not his fault, far from it, and that it didn't even cross Ed, Steph and Jay's minds to blame him over the _date_ of their friendship's beginnings. Still Batman couldn't help think if he took them in earlier in their lives, he could have _avoided_ number of pains they suffered.

It was quite late tonight, when Edward sent a targeted message to Jonathan to ask if they can meet tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're all mad here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight warning for mentions of sex, prostitution and madness in this chapter. I am not entirely satisfied with how it turned out, but... there you go.  
> And sorry for the wait! I'll really try to update more frequently...

"Hu... the braids option!", Stephanie picked; she proudly held her hairbrush, in some pastiche of this typical picture of an adventurer who penetrates a cave, their torch in hand.

"Fine by me.", Edward patted a spot on the sofa to invite her to sit next to him.

Easy to attest he has a _fixation_ on hair. He might as well be a hairstylist in a funny alternate reality.

Right now, taking her brush, he expertly passed it through Steph's slightly wavy hair with delicate, precise movements whilst stroking here and there the golden strands, what provoked giggles from the little girl.

Six years old or not, she is perfectly able to brush her hair, teeth, dress, wash her body and generally take care of herself alone. Whereas Ed doesn't have the comparison, he knows some children need assistance for their corporal hygiene until their... nine / ten years old. Sometimes until they're even _older_ depending on the circumstances.

It was the case with Jason at the beginning: he wasn't accustomed to baths or toothbrushes when he moved in with them. He hated his visits to the dentist, although those turned out necessary. None of his cavities remained by now, they were all located on his baby teeth. His adult dentition spurted at a normal angle; the milk teeth he still had at present aren't damaged. As for bathing... the first times were _epic._ He failed to comprehend the _point_ of washing every day, he _screamed loudly_ when Ed put shampoo on his hair: he fidgeted so much a bit of the product trickled in his eyes, he found stupid to have to apply shower gel everywhere on the skin, he refused to wash his face...

Eddie smiled. The bathroom battles constitute happy, bouncy memories he was persuaded every parent experienced at least once with their children.

Even if technically, Steph doesn't need help to brush her hair anymore, he _loves_ when she lets him do it.

"According to Wendy and Marvin, they're planning something big in Jason's class.", she notified her brother in the 'activated: confidence' tone.

"If Wendy and Marvin say so. What is it your calamity twins of friends uncovered this time?"

"They say they're gonna go on a trip! But hush.", she added very seriously, moving her head rearward to address him a complicit glance. "It's a surprise, Wendy heard Jay's teacher and another talk together of a massive vacation project, yesterday at the recreation."

"This seems very credible.", Edward assured, he finished to tie the first braid, starting behind her ear to fall to her ribcage. "Actually, it figures in the school's program: they organize sports meetings for those who participate to the extracurricular activities, and a holiday trip for the eldests in the school. Last year, they took the pupils for an expedition to the Great Canyon."

"Really?!"

She fully turned to him, her second braid only half-tied giving a comical, asymetrical aesthetic to her hairdo.

"Really.", Eddie confirmed, smiling widely.

"Why didn't I know about it?!"

"Because last year, Milday, it concerned neither Jason's class nor yours. So although I _most certainly mentioned it,_ you didn't pay increased attention to the information."

"... Very credible.", she echoed his analysis.

They both laughed.

Edward just tied the second purple scrunchy when Jason bursted in... disheveled as ever, looking anything but ready for school.

"Ed! I lost mah geography notebook! There's my homeworks in it!"

"We did these homeworks during the weekend, your notebook should simply be on your _desk._ ", the redhead reminded him. "Thanks for proving me again you need to pack your schoolbag in the _evening,_ so that you won't have to hustle searching your stuff in the morning."

"Yeah... you won dat round."

Eddie ruffled Jay's fluffy dark hair as he followed him back at their bedrooms' story.

"Come in, we'll find that rebellious notebook."

Living with kids who go to elementary school implies an obligatory organization.

Regarding their backpacks, he maintained the habit of having them ready every evening for the tomorrow morning. Since they moved to Wayne Mansion nonetheless... his kids asked for, and acquired, more autonomy. It's a step in the growing process moreover; so even if Edward never rushed anything, he finds it natural they gradually take care of personal rituals, like... checking their schoolbag on their own.

Looks like it's not a success for Jason yet.

Less than ten minutes later, the workbook which contained the geography exercices Ed helped him understand and finalize on Saturday, the day prior Thanksgiving, was safely stored in his bag.

"Usually we never see ya on da mornin'."

Bruce didn't respond to Jason's ironic greeting, he eyed Edward zipping his kids' jackets in the entry hall before they left for school.

"That's normal.", Stephie smirked. "Bats are not early birds."

"... I have things to do outside today."

"Batman things?"

"Bruce Wayne things. A meeting this morning, and I'm going out with Harvey over the evening."

Edward addressed him a puzzled glance.

"We are in the middle of a _case._ "

"I'm aware.", the Bat grumbled. "Do what you want with this; as long as we don't collect new elements, it's not like we can _progress._ Contrary to you, other aspects of my life require my presence during a week."

"If you say so.", Eddie huffed, vexed by how he has been... ungratefully dismissed. "I won't see you today?"

"You have plenty in the Manor not to get bored. And you can always stop by at the GCPD if you want to lead interrogations."

"... I'll find something."

When Alfred showed up, they headed to a car the butler will drive to the kids' elementary school, while mister grumpy Bat walked to the kitchen serve himself a mug of black-like-the-night coffee.

__________

"May I ask what is this?"

"You _may_ ask, Alfred.", Edward teased with a cocky grin. "But nothing guarantees I'll answer."

The butler hadn't reframed his inquiry.

Both him and Bruce expressed legitimate curiosity over the cardboard box of DVDs Robin brought home; since the ginger stored it in his bedroom saying they are "potential evidences I'll study on my own", the two men didn't insist.

Still, Batman glared at the black backpack with which Ed came back from Mockridge's. Albeit he didn't gather precisions over what lurked inside, he scolded his acolyte:

"You are _not_ supposed to steal items at suspects' places."

"You are not supposed to drive a car while you aren't able to provide identity papers if a cop arrests you.", Robin retorted, unimpressed by his menacing voice. "Not to remind the illegal _speed_ you use to race across Gotham. Do the maths: what is the most morally condemnable, the fact I borrow objects what will potentially help for investigations or how you are the number 1 dangerous hit-and-run driver of this dear city?"

"Again?!", the Bat cringed; remarks about his driving speed being a common reproach in Edward's mouth.

"It's because of people like _you_ that children, teens... adults too, are scared in the streets whenever they cross the road."

Sure, Bruce noticed his little road prevention speech is a _diversion_ from the bag and box he carried. However he decided to play his game, anyway he'll hear further about these stuff if they turn out useful for their case. After all, spotting clues or detecting hidden elements in videos or softwares is more Ed's jam than Bruce's, the Bat didn't pursue his questioning.

Edward kept the box in his room tonight... and felt awfully stressed on the morning: he realized he cannot _conserve this._ Even if he made it clear he takes care of the clean up of his bedroom and his children's, he couldn't prohibit neither the butler nor the owner of the manor to enter his room when he isn't watching, open the cupboards and browse through the space.

Consequently, it embarrassed him to leave the box here unattended.

Therefore he took a backpack, put the videos as well as Linda's diary inside, and left with it when Alfred drove his siblings to school this morning. He told the butler he'll spend the day out, and will be back at the end of Jay and Steph's schedule on the elementary school's parking.

They wished each other a good day, then parted when Alfred headed to the stores whilst Ed opted for the subway.

Three stations and a bit of walking later, he entered the hideout Jonathan left him a duplicate key of, the one containing a few bottles of fear toxin at disposal.

Jon and him aren't supposed to meet before noon, he settled for this place not to be interrupted as he spread the DVDs on the low table and scanned their titles. Most of them, fairly unoriginal, are people's _first names,_ written with a pen on a tag.

His cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink when he opened his laptop. He isn't going to watch everything, merely minutes of the videos that evoke something to him.

Some of the footages are actual porn, with 'actors' paid to play. Needless to linger there. This being said, he wondered how many are non-consensual sessions Mockridge didn't specify were filmed. And among these, how many were, additionally, underage.

"It's after the sixth night of passion we shared, that the test finally announced 'positive'. I remember this day as the most wonderful of my life. I wasn't a nobody anymore. This day I became _someone._ I will be one of the birthers of our god's legacy."

Edward paused in his reading.

"I spare you the explicit sex scenes.", he commented. "The _numerous_ explicit sex scenes."

Jonathan didn't intervene, he allowed him to pursue via a movement of the head.

The professor found strange Ed texted he preferred they go to an apartment instead of meeting outside at a public space, because he wanted to show him something sensitive.

They landed in this sorta common hideout Eddie has a key of. From then, Jon listened to these extracts, skeptical over their purpose.

"This one is kinda scary too.", Edward selected another part in the notebook. "Whereas she described each step of her pregnancy, after the baby's birth she did a sort of _review_ of everything that happened whilst she was expecting: 'The pregnancy was difficult. Of course, how could it be otherwise? It's a god's child. It's awaited it requires attention. I _gave it_ attention. My entire attention. I sacrificed nine months of my life. I stopped drinking, I didn't smoke. I spent the last four months in bed prohibited to move not to lose the baby. It has been marvelous. A torture I would sign up for again any time. Any year. I dream to bear more of our god's children'."

"Disturbing.", Jonathan granted him. "Though not unusual. What do you want me to say?"

"Listen one last piece."

Edward didn't wipe his worry from his features when he went on, two pages later:

"They took her away. They stole my beautiful baby. My daughter. No matter how hard I cried, how loudly I begged or how many times I cursed them. They said I am sick. Unable to raise my child. They said I will hurt her. Hurt my daughter, my flesh and blood. As if I could!"

Ed specified:

"Given the writing there, her hand shook violently. She most likely cried on the paper, it crinkled where her tears fell."

He resumed:

"I would never have hurt her. I promised, but the judges didn't listen. No one listens. I swore I will treat her like a princess, that would be the _minimum_ since her father is a _god._ I pledged my allegiance to that god. I gave him my body, my mind, my heart, and I want him to own my soul. I would never hurt his child! Our child. Our baby girl..."

"Let me guess.", Jon cut, unbothered by the pitiful turn the reading was taking. "Social services took the newborn for foster custody regardless."

"Not custody, adoption.", Edward rectified, clueless over what to think about it all. "Doctors visibly declared her mentally ill and too unstable to raise the baby. They didn't even communicate to her _who_ adopted her daughter; or if they did, she doesn't remember. Otherwise she would have written it down in her diary, like for the rest."

He skipped to nearly the end of the thick book:

"I destine them an eternal hatred. The monsters who took my princess and the ones who will raise her. They forbid my daughter from receiving her glorious education. She deserved to know about her lineage. She deserved to be treated like a queen and be trained by the best to become a worthy heir for the Joker. They divested me of that right. They will raise her like an average person whilst she has gold in her veins. Don't worry. I will find you, my princess. I will eliminate the pathetic humans who believe they can force you into the life of an ordinary girl. And when you'll be a little older, I'll introduce you to your father. So that you can be reunited. Finally. You and the Joker. Daughter and father. We will be a happy family again."

Eddie looked up from the hand written pages.

"Next thing she proceeds with how she has the ambition to give her and Joker's child little brothers and sisters."

Jonathan didn't seem to get the problem.

"So what?", the former teacher relaunched casually. "Nothing tells you this woman is not just a lunatic in the middle of a delirium."

"What if she is not?"

"Again, what difference would that make? If she has been dumb enough to fall in love with Joker when he most likely _paid her_ for services, it's her problem, not his. And certainly not _yours._ What are you even doing with this diary?!"

"... Kinda got my hands on it by accident."

Ed gazed at the cover of the notebook he placed back on the table, then at his hands that rested on his lap.

"So... it's a thing.", the teenager let out, _angry_ and... mildly disgusted. "Leaving girls alone in town, pregnant with rogues' offspring?!"

"Some fans ask for it, yes."

Although Jon had no interest in lying on this area, he replied cautiously, unwilling to disturb his boy with awkward facts.

"Most of the time," he clarified, "it doesn't go further than encounters with prostitutes, male or female. You know, it gets lonely when at Arkham, and so it does during the, much more extended, schemes elaboration periods."

"... You mean you could have children."

Jonathan sighed.

"I don't think I have. I practice safe sex. As for could a condom be defective or someone doing anything to voluntarily get pregnant? If so, I never had a return. Why would I _care?_ "

Edward stood up, he walked back and forth in the small living room.

"Why did you show me this?", the older one outlined, frustrated all of a sudden. "You expected me to... know about this woman? Joker and I aren't _friends;_ and if by some twisted miracle we were, _why_ would he keep me abreast of his interactions with a whore he knocked up? He most likely _doesn't remember_ that nutjob's name."

"Don't talk like that!"

Scarecrow shook his head.

"You are getting boring, Edward.", he lectured him coldly. "I don't appreciate how you _waste my time_ with this meaningless subject matter."

They shared a stern gaze.

"Do you... keep doing that?", Eddie queried then, struck by the pernicious thought. "Requesting prostitutes' services?!"

The professor pushed his square glasses up the bridge of his crooked nose.

"I knew _one_ person who exercised this way to earn money, to whom I came back to for _years_ until he asked for more than sessions and I acknowledged a part of me feels genuine concern for him. If your question is: do I frequent someone else like you? The answer is _no._ But if you ask whether you were, and are, my exclusive sexual partner? The answer is no as well."

Edward's fists clenched.

"Why?!"

"And you claim to be a genius.", he accused him through gritted teeth, exasperated by their exchange. "I'll tell you why: because you _don't want_ sex anymore. I don't blame you, I care about you and I love the path our interactions are taking. Don't lie to yourself: is it honestly a _surprise_ for you we don't have an exclusive relationship?!"

"... I _just discovered_ we don't."

A sparkle of... disappointment, flashed in his iris. This sentiment instantly caused a wave of ire to surge in Jonathan's mind.

"Why are you trying to make me the bad guy?! I am an adult, I don't owe you anything. If that afflicts you nevertheless, you _have_ ways to prevent me from going elsewhere."

"It's not that easy!"

"It was."

Edward glared at him. Things escalated quickly... he loathedthe fact he has an indisputable responsibility in their feud. Truth is, he should have avoided reading that diary. Jonathan escaped Arkham for barely over fourty-eight hours, he aspired to share a tranquil time with him, most likely to talk science. Not to... quarrel over a mad ex of Joker's and sexual activities.

"I hate it when you make remarks like those.", he pointed out in a dry tone. "I concede it wasn't a smart move from me to ask you about this; I assumed you... could have known something, I realize it was a silly assumption."

He disliked admitting he faulted or made a mistake. Be that as it may, right here right now, he... definitely got mistaken.

"Regardless.", the younger one belabored. "I may shouldn't have brought this subject, _you_ don't have to take a revenge on what I said by making me feel weak, or bad, or _scared_ for no reason! Why are you doing this? Why can't you... try to be a little more..."

"Compassionate?", he proposed. "What are you saying, _you_ talked about Joker's sex life. As if I give a _damn_ about this. We are rogues, not animals! We don't have tea parties with Jervis to share our kinks or sexual practices, even _less_ with Joker. It's disgusting, I am offended you believed I could know the clown's _preferences._ No matter how you obtained that diary, _why_ did you read it when you understood what it contains?! And once you did, why didn't you throw it in the nearest trash can?!"

"I... I wanted to know if it's true..."

"It probably is.", Jonathan muttered. "The jester has demented admirers for long enough, in all likelihood this woman isn't the only one he had adventures with."

Indeed, this was... gross.

"Fans who want to get pregnant from their favorite male villain is scary enough to be treated like a major issue."

"It is _not._ ", Jon cast out the improper deduction, infuriated. "Besides it's not like one of us would abandon the Underworld to settle down with a partner, even one who bears a biological child."

"... You think it's absurd? To... change for the reason someone you love will give birth to your child?"

Jon looked him dead in the eyes. This kid is the most intelligent person he ever met, why is he reacting like an oversensitive teen on this topic while he is competent to define elaborated, perspicacious analysis about _everything?!_

"Joker doesn't remember that girl's name, perhaps he never knew about her pregnancy.", he stated what is _obvious_ to him. "He doesn't 'love' her, he doesn't love _anything_ aside his stupid puns, Batman and... more recently, Harley Quinn."

The doctor still hasn't made his peace with how his once best student became a psychiatrist at Arkham... and ended up Joker's Queen of Crime.

"All in all, this is ridiculous. We don't have to debate over Joker's love life."

"You prefer we debate over yours?... If I dated.", Edward conjured up, not letting Crane an occasion to append anything.

His pale fingers ran absently from Jon's slim wrist to his elbow, tracing smooth but neat lines on the fabric of his shirt.

"A random civilian. A guy I would enjoy the company of and who wouldn't be part of your business."

Ed riveted his light green eyes in Jonathan's opalescent blue ones, letting out mirror-like reflexions.

"Would you get jealous?"

It slid into one of these moments the doctor's sole retort is to stare, his features plus whole posture statufied. He watched him without moving an inch, not even blinking, until Edward grew truly uncomfortable.

"Care to say something before I completely freak out?"

"... I was not jealous.", he unveiled at last, his expression indecipherable. "When we met for sessions, I was well aware you frequented other people who paid you for similar services. I was not jealous.", he repeated in a firm intonation.

"... 'was'.", Edward quoted. "You spoke in past tense. Does that mean now we grew... closer, you _are_ subject to jealousy?"

In a rapid, too rapid for Ed to process, movement, Jon caught his wrist where his hand stopped, on his eldest's upper arm.

Despite himself, Edward shivered, incapable to suppress an instinctive recoil as the grip on his wrist tightened.

"If I learn," Scarecrow uttered in an icy voice that gave Robin the chills, "that you share with _any_ teenage boy or adult the kind of relation _you_ insisted to create with me in spite of common sense and in spite of _my own_ warnings... then you'd better break up with that person. I can't promise his death will be any less slow and painful, but at least my level of rage against him would lower."

He let go of his arm.

"Have I been clear?"

"... You... you don't get to talk to me like that.", he articulated, fear morphing into rage.

"I know I shouldn't."

Jonathan pondered over it then confessed:

"Truth is, I don't like how you make me feel. You make me feel _vulnerable._ ", he voiced in response to Ed's quizzical expression. "In a way I never guessed I could be. And I... haven't accommodated to it yet."

Eddie smiled, ire liquefied in his brain.

"Cute.", he jeered. "It almost sounds like a declaration."

"Well forget about this, then. I have a reputation to uphold."

Edward laughed; Jonathan's gaze considerably softened. Thereupon he shared a peace offering:

"I have a new biochemical approach of my toxin components, I started elaborating it in my head in prison, I want to see how it works in real."

"... That's very nice. I'm in for a bit of science."

__________

"I have an awesome new!"

No surprise, in the evening, Jason announced with pride his class organizes a school trip. He was overexcited as he exposed the destination and conditions his teacher presented today.

"C'n I go there? Pretty pleeeeease?"

Not gonna lie, Edward didn't like much the prospect of Jay spending ten full days away, travelling to a natural park located at over 2000 miles from Gotham, under the elementary school's care.

"You are so lucky.", Stephanie pouted. "I want to see a geyser too!"

"Ya shoul' have skipped a few more grades, ta be in last year."

As a response to the teasing, she stuck out her tongue at him.

"So, Eddie... y'know you are my favorite-most-amazing-genius-big-bro-ever. What d'ya say, can I gooooo?", Jason fluttered his eyelashes, making himself look like an innocent little angel.

Edward shook his head, amused by his adorable power play.

"I can't see why not.", he agreed despite his reluctance to let his baby brother leave the nest for days.

His positive reaction induced a shout of joy from the young boy and giggles from Steph.

"Thank you, Ed! Ya're the best!"

"Tell me something I don't know.", he smiled as he returned Jaybird's embrace when the kid hugged him cheerfully.

"Now.", Jason supplemented though. "Can ya guys explain ta me what is a 'geyser' and why is dat place called 'Yellowstone'? The teacher said it, but I don't remember. His voice is so borin', I had ta stop listening after his main infos not to fall asleep."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hazards of cohabitation.

In TV shows or movies, the scenario has often recourse to that cliché comedy scene: the parents come home subsequent a long night out for work or a travel, or, more casually, they descend the stairs in their house after a restful night of sleep... to find their teenage son making breakfast to a complete stranger who is likely dressed in lingerie or, typically, who wears one of their child's half-buttoned shirt and nothing underneath.

An expected comical moment, funny albeit, let's face it, _not of a very good taste,_ which leads to an awkward situation for the characters, that is rather _hilarious_ to watch for the viewer.

At present, the circumstances diverge: the 'girlfriend' who wore, indeed, one of her partner's blue shirts that didn't cover enough of her black skin and generous attributes, wasn't a teenager's adventure but... Bruce's one night stand.

As a result, Edward felt in the shoes of the parent who walks home, except that it's to meet an underdressed _adult woman_ his mentor / adopted _dad_ spent the night with. That went beyond awkwardness.

"... May I help you?", he cringed when entering the oversized kitchen to prepare breakfast for his kids before school.

He always saves an appropriate schedule for them to enjoy an healthy morning routine, with breakfast, no rush to: dress, brush their teeth and get ready. He is not the type who would wake them five minutes prior end time and rush them into a car without eating anything on the morning.

Sometimes he goes down before Alfred, sometimes he meets the butler drinking his first cup of tea of the day in the kitchen, and they make breakfast together in a light-hearted atmosphere.

Today as usual, he went on with the initial part of his morning routine then woke up his siblings (whom grouched against the school timetable, as ever...), thereafter he headed to the kitchen. They generally take about ten / fifteen minutes to fully emerge, by the time they arrive their breakfast is ready, waiting for them to begin the day in good conditions.

Except that, _unlike usual,_ someone squatted the room, browsing through the cupboards.

The tall woman, about... Bruce's height, startled –Eddie felt proud of his mischief: he loves sneaking up on people...–. She turned to him, he attested that she dyed her puffy hair the same electric shade of red around her face than she did on the back of her head. If it was up to him, Ed would recommend a softer color instead of this one that unequivocally looks _artificial,_ almost like a wig circling her smooth features. She addressed him a wide smile.

"Well, hello dear! You are one of Brucie's new kids?"

"Name's E. Nygma.", he replied, not bothering to confirm the question: _what_ would he be doing at Wayne Manor in the morning, wrapped in warm pajamas plus bathrobe, if he didn't live here?!

"Jezebel Jet.", she introduced herself in an inviting tone of voice. "Nice to meet you, I am an... acquaintance of Brucie's."

"A _close_ acquaintance, as I see.", he jeered, his eyes travelling from her face to her clothing.

She stole a pair of Bruce's slippers, too.

"It's rather cold here, even inside.", he snapped without transition. "An awaited issue with giant, ancient mansions. Don't you have... anything more _covering_ to dress with? Like... something that wouldn't _barely_ cover your backside and could be buttoned _at least_ on your chest?"

She flung him an offended glance, to which he answered by crossing his arms on his chest after he leaned his cane (required when descending the stairs from his bedroom's floor) against the nearest wall.

"Bruce apparently forgot to communicate elementary decency rules: he doesn't live alone, there are _children_ here. Now, if you put even short pants on, I was about to make breakfast. Do you want coffee, or do you take another drink on the morning?"

"I'd go for coffee.", she responded, her frustration drawn onto her facial expression as a mask of annoyance. "Still, I don't get why you attacked me like that. A woman should not be told to..."

"Oh, _please._ ", he cut off, his discontent surfacing via a distinctive gesture: his right foot tapped frantically against the tiled floor. "Don't start with an empty feminist speech. I evoke _decency,_ I won't get in a political debate. Moreover that's a truly _bad idea_ to attempt a debate with me: I inevitably win and I feel pride upon leaving my opponent defeated, their self-esteem shattered as they reevalute all their life choices."

He prepared coffee as he spoke, under Miss Jet's total incomprehension.

"You can also keep your stereotypes for yourself."

Jezebel didn't retort, not knowing how to qualify this first contact with Bruce's second wave of adopted children.

Talking about the others, a younger boy appeared a few minutes later at the kitchen's doorframe.

"Heya.", he hailed Eddie after a yawn. "I dreamed I was flying, dat was super cool. Think I was a dragon."

Then Jason's eyes landed on their guest. Before Edward prevented a remark, he said _what he had in mind,_ as ever not caring much for respect or proper conduct:

"Wow, you're hot."

Edward sighed as the woman smiled.

"Thank you.", she nodded, visibly used to receive _that_ category of comments from everyone. "I am..."

"Jezebel was about to leave.", Ed shot his brother a reproving glance. "And you, Jason, that's _not_ a way to greet someone. Apologize, please."

"Dat was a compliment!", he retaliated. "I mean it, ya're very pretty.", the ten years old boy reinforced, grinning at the guest who must be in her early _thirties._

Then he pushed forward:

"Ya're welcome to stay in da house if you want! Don't mind Eddie, he is like a cat: at first he behaves rude'n obnoxious with strangers, cuz he doesn't like how they change somethin' in his well-established little routine. But once ya get to know him, I swear he's a cinnamon roll."

This truthful description made Edward grumble, Jezebel let out a fond noise and Steph laugh, as she arrived on time to hear Jay's presentation of their big brother.

"Hi!", she called the newcomer. "Why aren't you wearing more clothes? The mornings are kinda freezing here, you'll catch a cold!"

Looks like Ed definitely has a point. He served Jezebel a mug of coffee before dedicating his full attention to his siblings.

If he ignored her, she might leave.

His kids just began breakfast when dear batbutler walked in.

"Miss Jet.", Alfred acknowledged the other adult in the room after he greeted the younger ones. "Long time no see. How is the market of fashion, still productive?"

"Productive with _me._ ", she responded in an unsubtle manner. "I met Bruce's newest charity action... I must say, I miss the sweet Romanian boy, he at least was _educated._ "

Alfred interfered before it got out of hand: he concluded the affair by having Jezebel exit the kitchen whilst Jay and Steph vehemently defended their education and Ed aggressively protested against the denomination of 'charity action'.

Afterwards, even if he faked being fine, Edward was boiling with _rage_ when they drove the kids to school. Today being Wednesday, they have the afternoon off: they haven't signed up for sports this year, given the fact they have access to everything they want and more at the Manor.

When Alfred and him returned home, Edward waited for the owner of the place to show up. When he _finally did,_ with his grumpy morning head and in need of coffee to function, he hurried to scold him:

"I made a charming encounter this morning.", he indicted straightforwardly. "You spent the night in _good company,_ didn't you?!"

The Bat sighed upon detecting the venom in the teenager's tone. He would have much preferred _not getting remarks_ about this; then again, he didn't hear Jezebel leave his bed earlier. For the record, she called one of her drivers and left the Manor before Alfred and Edward came back.

"Jezebel is an... ex.", he picked his words, drinking two long gulps of the coffee mug Alfred served him before leaving the room. "Been a while since last time we saw each other, we met yesterday by accident. We decided to..."

"... catch up on the lost time?", Edward scoffed, his expression mid-way through a reproving frown and a mocking grin.

Before he clarified his displeasure at finding an underdressed person in this context, Bruce impersonated a _parody_ of parental attitude:

"I see where the problem lies. Dick brought girls home all the time.", he confided in a reassuring manner. "We had no rule over this, I won't impose any to you. You are free to invite girlfriends or one night stands all you want, no need to warn prior or..."

"Stop that... right now.", Eddie rejected, blushing hard at the foolish misunderstanding. "I _wouldn't_ invite girls at your place to practice these kind of night activities."

Technically, that was not inaccurate: if he had the choice, he would practice with _boys,_ not girls. Naturally, Bruce misconstrued his sayings once more:

"I'm sorry it didn't work with Jenna Duffy.", he let out in a concerned tone that sounded... laughable, in all honesty. "Don't let a failure discourage you, it's normal not to succeed with everyone."

"Jenna is a friend. I've never been interested in another form of love towards her.", he reminded in his most coaxing tone. "Besides that is _not_ why I am angry at you: this is your home, you do whatever you want here. Just... when you have guests of that type, ask them to _dress_ if they want to interact with Steph, Jaybird and I. You live with _children,_ for the Devil's sake."

Rather than to proceed with the reproach, the Bat smiled at Robin's words.

"For the Devil's sake?", he quoted. "That's Poison Ivy's self-made curse."

The corner of Eddie's mouth lifted up as well.

"I guess I spend too much time watching video footages starring rogues or playing the Arkham therapy sessions tapes.", he conceded, conveying an odd surge of... affection. "Those are interesting, though. I feel like I know the psychiatrists when I listen to them."

"The psychiatrists? Not... the rogues?"

"None of the villains give away crucial informations that aren't already logged in their files. It's... fascinating, to attend a session they turn to their advantage. I refer to the intelligent ones, of course. I don't waste time trying to decipher what's inside Croc, Firefly, Killer Moth or Baby Doll's brains, if there _is_ something to begin with, I wouldn't bet on it. But the clever ones? The way Crane and Isley answer questions is in truth a method to _gather elements_ about the doctors, to identify their weaknesses, without a doubt having in mind the objective to use these against them when needed. They are very alike in how they play with people's spirits, in a much more elaborated modus operandi than Tetch's while I'm at it, with how they dissect their therapists' reactions without them knowing, how they... determine how to use their fears."

From vaguely amused, Bruce's expression morphed into a deep frown as the boy went on.

"The others are far less interesting.", Edward stretched. "I regret doctor Quinzel's tapes of her interviews with Joker disappeared when she ran away with her patient. I would have _loved_ witnessing how he played her, made her believe her only way to be free is to join him. That would have been compelling to parse."

"... So you are suddenly an expert in psychiatry?"

"Do not insult me. I am an expert in _everything._ "

He won't linger on the subject; enough enamored declarations to the Rogues Gallery for today.

"I thought you went out with Harvey Dent.", he redirected their conversation.

"That's what I did.", Bruce convened to let his half-admitted admiration for the villains there, they'll discuss this issue later. "At the exception he invited Gilda. We intended to spend an evening out together, like in old times... In place of what he imposed me her _presence._ What was I supposed to do after this?!"

"... Anything _else_ than go to a bar, meet an ex of yours while you likely got drunk to forget your sorrow."

"Sorrow over what?"

"Over your love deception, what else?"

Edward offered him a little smile. Poor Bruce, so intelligent yet so _blind_ when it comes to his own feelings for people close to him.

"I exerce one of the oldest forces of the Universe on everything and everyone, inanimate objects and living creatures alike. Some consider me fatality, others the impulse that gives sense to general and personal evolutions. On a more intimate level, I cause hearts to beat faster as I bring people closer. What am I?"

"Attraction.", Batman found out after mere seconds of reflection. "Does it have something to do with me?"

"It does.", Eddie assured quietly, in his best supportive voice. "If I tell you that... Harvey is more than a friend to you. What would you answer?"

"That he is... my best friend."

Edward facepalmed.

"And you call yourself the greatest detective... Nevermind, let's try a different approach.", he decided, then realized he is... sincerely clueless over the response to the question he is about to formulate: "Have you... ever been in love? Romantic love I mean, not family or friendship bonds."

Bruce looked away, he muttered barely audible sentences in the middle of which Ed isolated the name 'Selina'.

"You are not in love with Catwoman.", he stated patiently, simply... analyzing, in a scientific method. "What you love in her is the _freedom_ your interactions provide you, as well as the pleasure to be with someone who understands you, even if you walk opposite paths. That's what you enjoy when you two meet on rooftops: being Batman and Catwoman who play it 'carpe diem'. Only most of the time it's _night,_ not day. You don't project yourself, neither does she. There are no Bruce and Selina, just two nocturnal freakshows dressed in black and grey dancing together, either as allies or enemies depending on the _mood._ This is not love."

Bruce's glare hardened.

"I see you are an 'expert'. Tell me, how would _you_ know about love?", he blamed him, more harshly than necessary.

Edward mirrored his severe glance.

"I don't know less than you do."

They kept staring angrily until Batman sighed:

"I never felt it for myself. I had adventures as Bruce Wayne, whereas nothing... serious. As for him, Batman shares... something, with both Catwoman and Talia al Ghul. Though I see her far less often."

They paused, pondering over the data. Bruce was the one to break the silence again as he confessed:

"They may aren't together anymore, I am convinced it's a matter of time for them to reunite. My model of true love is Dick and Barbara."

"Not your parents?"

"I was nine years old when they died. I know they loved each other, I don't... recall more. I saw this through the eyes of a child, to me it felt... normal, that my mother and father get along. I never asked myself questions, they were in love and that was it. Natural. Evident. I can't compare."

He took a bite of an apple turnover.

"What would your 'model of true love' be, if you have one?"

"Amelia Pond and Rory Williams from Doctor Who.", Edward appended promptly. "I want someone who would wait 2000 years for me, someone for whom I would pull apart time and space."

"... Sometimes, I almost forget how much of a nerd you are. And then, you remind me."

They chuckled.

__________

"Look at me, I am a freakin' monster hunter!"

One thing certain is that Jason and Stephanie are _always_ way too energetic when they undertake a pastime.

Sports? Check, no matter the area they invest themselves at 200%. Same goes for domestic activities, they belong to that kind of persons who are forever eager to turn life into something _fun,_ a never-ending fair in which every single aspect, each small component, may become a game.

Needless to say, they are a joy to live with. Although they are, no question, a bit _tiring,_ for the same reason. Last time Edward felt overstressed by their latest fad is two weeks ago, the weekend they asked Bruce if they can try to ride a bicycle.

"You never rode a bicycle?", the Bat had flipped the demand, surprised.

"Make a quick addition in your head.", Ed retorted. "Limited budget, plus no garden or outside space at our previous house, plus other sports they practiced every Wednesday afternoon at school equals... buying two bicycles didn't exactly count among our priorities."

They never requested one, either. During summer, this hasn't been a hobby they were curious to attempt, they much preferred gymnastics or track and field. Or, to Edward's dismay, games involving a _ball_ despite, according to him, its "direct nefarious impact on the cognitives capacities". Clearly, this disdain is awaited from the skinny redheaded geek who despised team sports at school.

"Sure.", Bruce had answered. "Dick left his bicycles here, but we'll find you more adapted versions."

Thus they learned how to ride. What Edward firmly refused for himself:

"No thanks.", he jested. "I have no interest in this, furthermore I am persuaded I will end up on the floor injured and feeling stupid."

That ended the discussion. Eddie never experimented lots of typical gestures most people learned; nonetheless he didn't want to dwell on the number of things he doesn't know how to do. He much prefers bragging about the impressive sum of fields he masters.

All of this to say, he was currently _stressed_ as he watched Steph and Jay racing in the stadium behind the gymnasium, at the Northern side of the property. Bruce or Alfred stayed whilst they learn how to ride, the bats being more able to intervene if they face complications. Today the butler played along, he assisted the session with him, amused by his manifest anxiety albeit it's not the first afternoon the children perform.

"It has been a disaster when Master Bruce learned to ride a bike.", Alfred mentioned, the ghost of a smile under his small, neatly groomed moustache.

"Because he didn't manage?", Eddie inquired, amused in advance.

"Because he managed _very well_ and did so _very soon_.", the butler contrasted. "I thought he'd require a learning phase, however he raced across the park at his _first tries,_ I had to run after him from the start to watch over, make sure he doesn't fall. After countless episodes of scratched knees and hands, he became a public danger in the garden."

"On that point, nothing changed."

"True."

Edward smiled openly, as whenever he caught a glimpse of kiddo Bruce's life. Independently of the subject itself, Alfred's anecdotes are always a delight to listen.

The billlionaire showed up during snack time. He stopped at the GCPD this afternoon, once he assured Robin he didn't need help, this being merely an adjustment with Gordon. The Knight pledged there are no new elements; the Commissioner sought for advises to take a few decisions regarding their fake-hostage-takers-who-occupy-the-police's-premises.

He'd have called him if they exchanged something relevant; if not, no need for the two of them to be at the headquarters.

In random civilian clothing, the Bat joined them at the gymnasium; they settled there to take a break, the outside temperatures being a tab too cool to stay motionless, once it's not to exercise. He smiled as he spotted the mugs of hot chocolate in their hands, what Alfred complemented with warm chocolate croissants. Neither his mentor, himself, Dick nor Barbara were 'hot chocolate guys'. Sure, they enjoyed it from time to time when it's cold outside, but they mainly drank coffee or tea.

While those kids _love_ this beverage. Tea as well, no coffee yet for the younger ones. Alfred and him gave a try to the drink more regularly, turned out they both dearly appreciate it. Bruce consumed more hot chocolates over the past months than he had in years.

"You camp here?", he called the group, then sat with them on the thick, comfy gym mats they converted in a sorta sofa.

"After efforts comes comfort!", Stephanie chanted happily.

Bruce saw himself provided with a mug, Alfred served the remaining hot milk on a puddle of chocolate podwer that lined the bottom of a cup.

"How was Gordon?"

"The usual: a wreck. Nothing new, and nothing especially interesting case-related either."

The vigilante's tone echoed like closure, Edward will relaunch later if he wanted specifications.

"It's not the investigation or judicial proceedings I want to raise with you." the Bat pursued, he took a sip of the sweet drink. "I received a solicitation.", he produced a paper from his pocket.

Jason grabbed it quickly.

"Nice paper.", he judged. "Wait... it's an invitation to a party this weekend?!", he deduced effortlessly the aim of the card.

"Not a 'party', a _gala._ ", Bruce corrected the appellation. "It arrived this morning, I searched an excuse to refuse... but since I don't have a valid reason not to show up, let's make this an opportunity for the three of you. If you agree, of course."

"You want us to come with you?!", Stephanie exulted.

"I would love to. If that's fine for you.", he eyed Edward for validation, whom... was just as excited as the children.

"You ask is it fine by me for us to go with Bruce Wayne to a gala organized by another rich, influent personality in this town?", the ginger summarized, enchanted. "Of course we would love to!"

No doubt, they _will_ turn this, unprecedented for them, situation, into a brand new game.

The tomorrow morning, Edward frowned at the bouquet Alfred placed in the living room, shipped obscenely early. Someone must have been paid to drop it at night.

"Where do they come from?"

The butler shrugged.

"Probably an admirer of master Bruce's. It's rather frequent he receives anonymous presents or letters. I don't think there is anything to worry about, or any hidden message behind these."

"... Then I can't explain _why_ this ordinary setting gives me such a... weird feeling..."

Edward glared at the yellow flowers.

Nothing indicated their origin, no card, no signature. They appeared out of nowhere, for the third time in less than a week.

This may wasn't worrying in itself, it's slightly _annoying_ for Eddie not to uncover who is their mysterious daffodils sender.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James Gordon Jr. is his own warning.  
> 

"The GCPD did _what?!"_

Batman sighed, he didn't dissimulate his displeasure. For himself, he found the decision unresonable. On the other hand, he was _conscious_ how difficult Gordon's position is, he abode the policeman's choices to operate.

"Jim deals with every case, from the ordinary to the most tricky ones, the best he can.", he defended his old friend. "When he takes a responsibility, it's _not_ without thinking it through. Do you have any idea how many crimes, of any sort, he has to handle?"

"... I get he considered his options.", Eddie relativized. "Doesn't change a thing: I believe the solution he selected is _dumb_ and will lead to poor consequences, but... I can respect the way he does his job."

Still, the Commissioner consented to release their hostage-takers after nothing more than interrogations, giving them the strict order to limit their displacements whilst the operator hasn't been arrested, plus to alert the police the day someone communicates anything to them about their abducted family member. At the same time, the cops have _so much_ to do _daily_ in this city, it's not a big surprise they can't linger on an affair that for now looks like a dead end.

Moreover, the fake thugs' faces were covered during their attack: their hostages wouldn't recognize them if they crossed paths on the streets.

Relative to the hostages this group _shot,_ as witnessed in their video tapes? The police has to decide of alternatives, otherwise they would never move on. There, Gordon chose to release killers, at least as long as they search for more. It's not the first time he faces situations of that kind, this may doesn't rejoice him, he knows keeping those people at the H.Q. would be irrelevant. Blackgate is filled, chock-a-block, it solely opens its gates to mass murderers or war prisoners lately. In regards to Arkham? A procedure has been launched to evaluate these persons' mental state.

There as well, it's _in progress,_ it would be fruitless to detain them at the headquarters.

"I get this may sound shocking.", Bruce acknowledged. "It..."

"This is Gotham.", Edward interrupted, in his head he came to terms with the facts. "I live in this town for long enough to know it works... differently here, than it does elsewhere. People referred to this at the black market, they mentioned names occasionally. Thieves, dealers, abusers, fighters, rapists. Murderers sometimes. People who hurt them, their families or their friends, who were released because: not enough _charges_ against them, not enough _space_ in prison, or not enough _time_ to dedicate to their case."

"You went to the black market? It's a dangerous place, even more for a young person."

"Really, _that's_ the only information you kept from what I just said? I was careful," he added casually, "it was easier to get medicine or various products at a reduced cost there."

"Like what?"

"Everything. Shampoo, toothpaste, cough syrup, bandages, paracetamol... sleeping pills, although it's been a while since I last ingested one. I needed these when I was younger.", he anticipated the Bat's next question. "Or else I... never slept. I _passed out_ of exhaustion and invariably woke up a few hours later even more weary, screaming and crying because of a confusing mess of nightmares."

"You still have nightmares."

"How delicate of you to outline this.", Eddie scoffed, however Batman's crude remark amused him.

Bruce is just like Jason on that point: no filter on, they _say_ what they _think._

"It's a lot better, compared to what it used to be. I _love_ how things evolve.", Edward promised wholeheartedly. "I am not only talking about my resting times."

They shared a peaceful nod.

"Furthermore, to come back to the black market: I've done _far more dangerous_ than buying stuff there."

"Like what?"

"Like being your _sidekick,_ what else?"

Following Batman's advises afterwards, Ed didn't pay a visit to one of their fake thugs. He mused the possibility to see Mrs Penman, or Charles Brown; he decided otherwise after a short reflexion.

As for the Mockridges, he helds no grudge against the wife, going to her house wouldn't be particularly... useful.

Consequently, he determined to take the case via another angle, not as Robin but as E. Nygma; he contacted one of his _peculiar_ acquaintances to do so. Someone with an extended web. Gordon texted back he was at his disposal over the afternoon, he invited Eddie to stop by at his place.

That's what Ed did. He turned his key in the lock when he arrived, crossed the entry... walked a bit in the house, skeptical not to spot him. Not in the living room, not in the kitchen, not in the offices... Until he arrived on top of the inside stairs leading to his cave. Not that he ever went down there, he simply noticed these a while ago during one of his numerous visits at his friend's.

Having clearly a thing for staging, James was... currently torturing someone in his basement.

"... What are you doing?!", Edward exclaimed from the top of the small stairs.

"As ever: everything I can to make my daddy proud.", he laughed, his butcher knife cut the flesh of the arm: a red, bleeding line appeared as the woman let out a weak scream, more out of _terror_ than pain, muffled by her gag.

Edward blinked a few times.

"... You told me you were... free.", he articulated, unable to take his eyes off the trembling frame tied to a chair.

"Just finishing a contract.", the older redhead shrugged his shoulders, as if he was doing nothing more than fulfilling a register. "On a regular basis I let _others_ take care of the dirty job; but sometimes it enticites me enough to play."

Ed commanded to his heartbeat to slow down, it reached a too _rapid rhythm_ as Junior explained the setting.

"A contract?! Since _when_ is your Consulting Criminal agency kidnapping middle-aged persons you bring to your _house_ to torture?!"

"A contract is a contract."

His bloody fingers left a stain on his nose as he pushed up his glasses.

"Gross.", Eddie made a disgusted face, forcing himself to: keep his cool, quit gazing at the prisoner, control his raising nausea, erase any dim shaking from his voice or his body. "And inappropriate. I sent you a message to say I need help for something, you answered I can come today, and you greet me while you are... playing Hannibal Lecter in your basement."

"I never ate people.", Gordon discarded, a disturbing smile on his lips as if the eventuality of making this real amused him. "Besides that one would be _tough meat._ If I were to try 'human', I'd ask dear Lazlo to cook a teenage virgin steak, not an old trash stew."

Edward's imagination has always been vivid, a downside or upside, depending on the context, of his eidetic memory and extraordinary attention for details. Today it's definitely the 'downside' aspect that prevails. As a result... he had to breath in and out for ten full seconds not to puke at the mental vision of what James described.

"I'll... I'll be back another moment. When you... won't be _busy._ "

"C'mon, Ed! Sorry for the view.", the young adult apologized, he left his knife on the table nearby, seized a cloth to wipe the blood from his nose and his fingers.

Then he addressed him a toothy smile:

"I'm all yours."

The woman moaned around her gag, her eyes wide in fear, in an attempt to attract his attention. She must hope that newcomer will do something... maybe that he'd... save her?

"SHUT YOUR TRAP!", James compelled his hostage, alongside giving her a violent slap on the left side of her face. "Forgive that bitch's lack of manners. We were saying?"

He may practically didn't need it anymore, Ed was glad he brought his civilian cane with him: right now that provided a much welcomed backing he could lean on as his knees almost caved in, suddenly incapable to support his thin frame.

"J-James..." he croacked out, "you can't... what are you... gonna do? What will happen to her...?"

He didn't truly _want_ the response to this question... he couldn't quite leave it aside either.

"Don't waste time pitying that scum.", the self-proclaimed mastermind waved of his hand, as he would to get rid of a fly. "As I said, it's a contract. I exclusively take engagements when they _interest me,_ nobody would make me do something I don't want to. This one," he pointed to the woman with a thumb, "is a dirty model of bully: practices insidious harassment while persuading everyone around her that _she_ is a victim because she hides behind her frail appearance. She never attacked, she only makes sure the young person she harasses is living Hell. Showing up at each of the places he visits, watching him constantly, making him know he is followed, recorded, taken pictures of, making him feel scared at home by showing up in front of his house every day as she pretends to walk out her dog. She never breached any laws, so that her target won't call the cops, especially in our city: my loving dad and his incompetent monkeys have better to do than listen to that category of complaints."

Once again, he never misses an occasion to insult the Commissioner, what he stands for, and everything he believes in. When it's not his father, it's his mother or his sister he blames.

This man is a concentrated jar of family issues.

"She did that for a while.", he resumed his presentation, proving he worked to collect clues, like a detective... except in his case, investigations have for goal to _create_ a murder, not to solve one. "Her target heard about me, he snapped and asked for a way to be freed from his tormentor. As the Prince Charming I am, forever ready to help, I obliged. After he paid me, I guaranteed he won't have neither problems nor nothing to take care of. Now..."

The tip of his fingers brushed along the handle of his large knife.

"... would you speak up for that woman? Nobody tolerates her, years elapsed since her adult children last showed up at her doorframe. She almost drove a young man she crushed on to suicide with harassment; I dug into her history, she did the _same_ with three more young persons fitting his characteristics in the past. Three suicides. She is a parasite nobody would mourn. As I told you: I pick my cases, I am glad my services have been required for this one. Don't lie to me: are you the kind to defend bullies?"

"... I am friends with _you._ While you are like... the _worst_ example ever in matter of bullies."

"Yeah well, for me it _doesn't count,_ 'cause I'm cute."

"No, James. You are not 'cute'. I assure you, 'cute' is not... what you are. Not at all. I mean, seriously. You are a _total creep._ "

That made his eldest laugh. Edward allowed himself a smile as he progressively relaxed.

"If it's an intimidation session you're leading, your guest here saw me.", he indicated nevertheless. "Even if I don't participate, legally speaking that makes me an accomplice."

"Worry not. It _is_ an intimidation session... that I'll conclude by her _death,_ then I'll have the body disappear. You can reveal your name, your secrets or tell her a story, she won't relate anything to anyone, let alone to the police. Dead men tell no tales, she won't escape that room alive."

More tears flowed on the soon-to-be-dead woman's face.

Edward shifted; while he didn't feel like he'd empty his stomach on the floor anymore, he remained... flustered.

"Back to you, Eddie-baby."

"I need an information.", the teen recentered his focus. "About a baby girl born two years ago, likely in July, maybe at the end of June. I don't know her precise birthdate, but given the elements I identified, I'd say she is born between beginning and mid-July. At Gotham General. The baby has been put to adoption after her mother was diagnosed mentally ill, at a level that would make her a danger for the child and herself."

"Translation.", Junior immediately pinpointed the main issue. "The mother didn't give her approval, I bet she doesn't know her baby's name or who adopted her."

"Exactly."

Edward concedes, it's _pleasant_ to chat with intelligent persons whose mind react quickly. Even when those persons are... scary as fuck. As to reinforce this, the woman wailed pitifully.

"I said _quiet!",_ James growled, menacing.

She sobbed the most silently possible.

" _Why_ do you impose me this?", Eddie cringed, offended. "When I invite a buddy over, I clean up, wash the dishes and take out the trash before they arrive, I wouldn't... leave awful _things_ visible like that."

"Oh, sure. My bad, we can go to the living room if you prefer.", he abandoned his knife in the basement, then gestured for Edward to walk away.

Ed ignored the pleading whimpers from the victim who sees her potentially last hope leaving. He felt sick. He is Robin, he _should feel_ a little more _concerned._

Yet he doesn't.

Not enough to interfere, not enough to... even try.

"Give me more.", Junior queried as they settled in the main room, he served himself a glass of water (is torture an activity that gets you thirsty?). "A name? A description? Something notable in the mother's appearance, or in her baby's?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary for her.", he listed, fighting internally to get rid of the acid taste in his mouth and his sensation of nausea. "Auburn hair, freckles, hazelnut eyes, kinda petite for that matters. I haven't seen the baby, I can't tell if she inherited of her mother's features or..."

He pondered over it for the first time: Joker has wide, dark eyes that seem... unatural, like two huge black holes on his angular face, with that white chalk skin tone of his. Plus his neon green hair, falling in supple curls past his shoulders. Except for the hair, skin and likely the width of his smile, nobody would guess what _other parts_ are from the chemicals: if they changed his eye color for example. No one could: testify of his initial aspect, ascertain what race or mixed races blood circulate in his veins, prove what physical traits pre-Joker possessed.

"I am not sure about the father.", he dithered accordingly. "From what I picked about him, I concluded he is white too, but... I don't have an actual proof. And no idea what he might look like."

"Two years ago," James summarized, "around July at Gotham General, a patient declared inapt to raise her child, no father in the picture, and the newborn given to adoption. This should be rather easy to track, why haven't you done it yourself?"

Eddie chewed his lower lip, nervous.

"I've done it.", he confessed. "I hacked the secured online files. There's something _missing,_ that they... don't keep in their numerical database: the name of the baby and who adopted her. To ensure her protection, they masked other components such as the birthdate. I only know the mother entered Gotham General at the end of June and exited three weeks later without her newborn. Whereas I can _crack_ anything, I can't steal files inside the hospital's paper format archives."

Before he thought it through, or... perhaps was it on purpose, –sounds more likely with him...–, James mentioned negligently:

"If it's your daughter you are searching, you based your investigation on erroneous informations: she is born in August, not July. And it was three years ago, not two."

Edward stared.

"What?!"

Junior smiled, pleased with his effect.

"I _don't have_ a daughter."

"You're not the first who never knew you got someone pregnant. Technically, even if you were a bit _young,_ your 'male functions' are operational since you are what... eleven? Twelve? It's around that age for most boys, sometimes it begins younger, at nine / ten years old. It was unplanned, the birther of your child hadn't envisaged to get pregnant in this _context._ Question is: do I know something you could _appreciate_ being aware of? You are not curious?"

"Are you mocking me?!"

"Maybe... maybe not."

He grinned some more, letting the doubt, the terrifying 'what if' waver around them.

"... Linda Penman.", Edward let out, while an area in his brain felt... blank, in a way he never experienced until then. "She is the biological mother, I don't know who the father is, I'm in if you find evidences regarding his identity. I want to know where and by who her baby has been adopted. It's... important. Somehow."

"What would I get if I help you?"

"What do you want?", Eddie retorted, although it isn't _ideal_ to let this... individual, decide of his own payment.

Sure, he could always refuse if that psychopath he called a pal asked for something exaggerated.

"Let me consider... a kiss?"

Edward rolled his eyes at the childish demand. He took two steps closer, stood on his semi-tip toes to put a noisy _smack_ on his cheek. Then he stepped back:

"You'll have a second one if you get your job done."

James laughed, his expression _fond_ as he formulated:

"The things I'd do for you..."

__________

"We have plenty of clothes.", Stephanie reminded. "There's no need to go out buy more."

"We must dress with something _flawless,_ and I am proud to be a product of our wonderful consumer society. No protest stands, Alfred and I already planned the trip: this Saturday we are going shopping."

"Again?"

"Again."

She smiled at her brother's excitement over the activity.

"You know, I have no doubt you will look _perfectly in place_ at that type of events. I bet nobody would guess you come from the outside world, you'll blend just right with the upper class."

"That's what I count on.", Eddie smirked. "I intend to _enjoy_ this side of Bruce's social rank, playing dumb rich kid and having a legit excuse to behave as a flirting showman."

No doubt, he'll have fun living it up.

"Does this mean I'll have to wear an uncomfortable dress and weird shoes?", Stephie inquired nonetheless; albeit the gala on Sunday _motivated her,_ she was not deeply convinced she'll find it wholly _entertaining._

"Nope, nothing you don't want. Only an attire that will make you feel confident and pretty."

"Would a cow-boy disguise fit the bill?"

"Don't push your luck."

They chuckled together.

James didn't lie: he _has_ a daughter. That they don't have biological links and that he was over nine and a half when she was born doesn't change the fact she is... his.

His little sun.

He raised her. Took care of her from day one, from before that even as he assisted Crystal all the while during her pregnancy.

He has a daughter, who's at the same time his sister and one of his two best friends.

As for does he... share genetics with a, therefore, three years old girl somewhere? This is nonsense. If turned out he _has_ a child, this... doesn't concern him. No one ever contacted him or bothered to warn him about something of that kind. Someone would have, right? If there _had been_ a pregnancy and a childbirth, the person wouldn't have left him... not knowing. Right?! He held back a shiver.

"Is everything alright?"

Steph furrowed her blond eyebrows when she detected his agitated look and how Ed seemed... jittery, while at present nothing justified to get worked up.

"Yes, I was just... thinking."

"You tend to do that."

Edward smiled. He held her close.

He loved hugs with his siblings; he supposed he'd love hugs in general too, he simply doesn't have much practice with people outside his family. Even though... more than once, he had recourse to hugs with the kids for the _gesture_ itself, more than for the comfort they provide.

As a matter of fact, hugs enable both actions: to reassure someone and / or oneself, and to... hide one's face from the other's gaze. To escape their vigilance. It's this option Eddie made use of this evening, as whenever he knew it will be too hard for him to conceal he was in pain, sad, scared or, like today, so utterly _confused._


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I swear I know where I am going. More or less ;)

At first, they stayed together, slightly impressed by the surroundings, even if they tried not to show how _new_ this whole deal is to them. Anyone could tell with a single glance it's the first time they participate to this type of mundane reception. However, looking like novices wouldn't be the picture of 'cool kids': Edward, Stephanie and Jason wanted to make a _dashing_ first impression. Therefore, gotta stick to pretending to be in control, that's better for their freshly born _reputation,_ coming with their official addition to famous billionaire Bruce Wayne's world.

They intended to accomodate, those three happy kids Bruce brought with him and proudly introduced to his social acquaintances.

"Careful with those people.", Harvey Dent joked to the three. "Behind the makeup, opulent outfits and jewels, they are a shoal of sharks who long to devour cute fishes."

Metaphorically speaking, that's exactly what they did: they wanted to know about them.

Far from being scared, this excited the siblings as they, precisely, mixed with the crowd. They had the feeling to be former outsiders from the District 12 suddenly dressed up and invited to a gala in the Capitol. At the difference that contrary to winners in Hunger Games, they don't judge the ambient decadency: they sincerely _love_ everything about it.

__________

"What'cha doing here?"

The child furrowed his brows, disgruntled somebody noticed he... doesn't belong to the reception. He made himself invisible, reached the buffet to steal raspberry bars, he planned to leave with a handful of sweets, not speaking to anyone (that annoyed him too much), if it wasn't for that boy who called him. He'll have to say a word to his parents about this, he disliked how that stranger took the right to _talk to him._

Jason sported an amicable grin. He had fun all the first part of the evening, he was now looking for an entertainment _other_ than being a little animation for complacent rich adults.

"It's my house. I sh-should stay in my b-b-b-bedroom but I-I'm scared a-alone in the d-d-dark.", the five years old boy answered, making himself sound _fragile_ on purpose. "And I wan-wanted cand-d-dies."

Jason arched an eyebrow. To him, this was a puzzling explanation: this kid is not a toddler, _why_ would he be afraid of the dark, in his _own house_ moreover?! Plus Jay couldn't relate, he found night times... appeasing. Pleasant. He had never been distraught in the shadows, darkness always allowed him to feel somehow _safe_ while... That's when he recognized his interlocutor.

"Name's Jason Todd."

Technically, the boy won't be able to identify him in return: he wore a covering red Power Ranger disguise during their meeting, he didn't give his name, they haven't properly 'communicated'... He saw Jason's eyes, though. Sure, the kid had _other things_ in mind that day. Notwithstanding this, if he paid limited attention, he _could_ associate his eyes with the Halloween encounter.

Mismatched eyes of different shades of blue: his right one reminiscient of a cyan stone, close to an opalescent blue-green, and his left one deep as a ocean blue agate. Even not _that_ rare, it remains... relatively uncommon, to meet many persons with this iris mutation. Most of the time, it's the kind of faces you remember.

"Timothy Dr-Drake."

Jaybird smiled. If the kid recognized him, he chose not to point it out.

"Yar parents sent Bruce an invitation for tonight.", he casually explained his presence here. "It's a cool party! Gala. A cool _gala._ Bruce sai' dat sounds more 'official' than party."

Tim shrugged.

"Mom and dad oft-t-ten have peop-p-ple over. They p-p-present the obj-j-ects of value they found across the w-world."

"So, ya keep these objects in your house?"

Timothy nodded vigorously.

"You're lucky! Earlier they showed a 'sarcophagus' –dunno if I'd spell it right–. Dat was freakin' superb! Yar parents have a dream job!"

The blush that materialized on the boy's cheeks was kinda sweet.

"Usually I don't p-participate to ev-events.", he appended sheepishly. "But my n-n-nanny is abs-bs-sent tonight. Mummy and daddy said I could join if I wan-wanted c-c-c-company."

"You have a nanny?"

"You d-don't?"

"... I have an Eddie.", he smiled. "Wanna show me over?"

Jason spotted Stephanie, busy talking with her boastful tone and smug expression on, to a group who repeats she is 'adorable'. Edward was... sensibly doing the _same,_ he currently spoke to two well-dressed ladies, whom, given their faces, found him _charming._ Flirting gentleman. As for him, Bruce chatted with Harvey Dent and Gilda Gold. For whatever reason, he tried, via truly _unsubtle gestures,_ to position himself _between_ Harvey and Gilda while maintaining a permanent physical contact with his best friend.

Grown-ups and their weird ways to display affection.

Glad he found something distracting, Jason followed Tim outside the hall.

To be honest, neither Jay, Steph nor Eddie gave much thoughts about that poor kid they met the 31 of October during what should have been a simple trick-or-treating night and revealed itself to be... a giant scheme orchestrated by the Joker and Harley Quinn.

He hadn't linked right away the mansion of those notorious archeologists, the Drakes, and that stuttering, terrified boy they came across to and ended up saving, a bit over a month ago, since they entered the first days of December.

They didn't mention him again. Nevertheless, looks like Timothy... has been _thinking_ about them.

"It's my living room.", the child opened a door and turned the lights of a spacious room on.

"Ya have your own living room?"

"I use it as my playroom."

Jason shook his head. Wayne Manor is more impressive than the Drakes', probably more impressive than _any_ property owned by Gotham's elite. Still, he found this residence imposing. Even if Ed, Steph and him take full advantage of the resources at Bruce's and enjoy everything it offers, they can't help feeling surprised by some traditions shared amongst the upper class.

This dark-haired, blue-eyed boy born in a milieu of luxury who seems... scared of everything, is about his _opposite._ Except maybe for... Batman.

Jason frowned.

"Ya... like Batman?"

"Al-Always have."

The playroom was _covered_ of images of the Justice League, overpriced dolls and themed items featuring the heroes; in this mass, Batman's symbol loomed more regularly than others. As well as Robin's, multiple elements featured Dick... Jason even noted pictures of Edward, although his advent in the red, yellow and green colors is rather recent.

"I love Batman since f-f-forever.", he whispered. "Rec-recently I... learned to love Robin."

Jason gazed at a batarang, exposed in a glass presentation at the child's eye level, its own dedicated lighting showcased it. On the spur of the moment, Edward gave him the weapon during Halloween: he wanted something to calm the child. This worked, the little boy had felt touched, the attention dried his tears.

Yet... that was it. No one evoked Drake after this. Ed didn't project himself, at most he assumed the kid would put that batarang on his desk or that it'd disappear in a cupboard. Not that he'd... worship it like a _treasure._

For some reason, that made Jason uncomfortable; he regretted he followed him. Not letting his confusion transpire however, he _smiled at him._

"Nice toy.", he qualified the batarang, faking not to recognize it as an original.

"It's n-n-not a t-toy!", Timothy corrected instantly. "It's a r-r-r-real one! Robin gave it to me!"

"Yeah, sure.", Jason scoffed. "Once, Wonder Woman gave meh her lasso, too. And Flash let me put his suit on."

Tears filled the kid's eyes.

"Shit, I didn't mean ta vex you...", Jason apologized, embarrassed.

He had never been in this situation. Steph and Eddie have recourse to snark and puns as much as him, they tease each other constantly. It's established between the three that it remains sympathetic, Bruce and Alfred lined up with the habit. Jason never offended someone outside of 'for the show' in a comical perspective, it stayed _playful._

While there? The child seemed on the verge of sobbing after what Jay voiced as a simple _joke._

"Hey... Wanna call someone? Don't ya have... a maid or a butler or whatever?"

"They-they are in the kit-kitchen or at the rec-reception to serve food and ch-champagne to the gu-guests."

"Okay... tell me 'bout that batarang!", Jason redirected the conversation.

It sucks if he made the son of the family _cry_ during his _first time_ invited at a mundane event.

"Guess I'm jealous cuz I don't have an awesome batarang like dat.", he fished a weak excuse.

This appeared enough for Tim, who took the occasion to blather about his item:

"It's Robin's! We... we met during Halloween!", he confessed, his eyes tearing up some more. "I... I was dre-dressed as Batman and I met _Robin_ and the J-Joker tried to ki-kill me and a m-m-monster a-ate Miss Bloom bef-before that and th-there was a cave and Joker called me his 'Georgie' I d-d-didn't get the joke, it-it had something to d-do with his clown costume and a R-R-Red Queen with a hammer and ch-ch-children trapped in a c-c-cage and g-g-gas all over and... and Robin saved the day... and... and..."

"T'sokay! Take a breath, Timothy."

"Tim."

"Tim."

Jay offered him an encouraging smile. Tim returned a shy one. At least he won't cry or faint because of sudden lack of oxygen due to how _fast_ and messily he spoke.

"Robin will c-come here.", he said softly after a silence, in a low tone that activated his eldest's curiosity.

"Why would he do that?", he asked, while knowing it may wasn't the smartest question around.

"Becau-cause he owes me.", Tim responded.

It sounded nothing like an innocent remark. It sounded like a... threat.

Jason blinked, his awkwardness back in full force. He never met someone like that child before.

"What makes ya think he 'owes you'?"

"He just _does._ He ha-ha-has to co-come back to me. We sha-share a lot. We m-m-met Joker the sa-same night. We have the J-Joker in co-common."

What an uncanny little guy. Mental note: he must warn Ed not to give batarangs to weird children he saves in the future, considering how that risks to turn them into... obsessional freaks.

Albeit Jay found his sayings... bizarre, he also _understood_ Timothy must have been traumatized by his encounter with the Prince of Crime, Harley Quinn and Killer Croc. His stutter is more pronounced than what Jason recalled, too. Could be a stress-induced result from Halloween, as well as his fear of the dark.

The boy probably sees Robin as a... savior. Edward _did_ save his life. Tim certainly looks up to him, he simply has a peculiar way to express his gratefulness.

"D'you have somethin' fun?", Jay pursued instead of relaunching about Joker, Robin or Halloween.

He needed to distract Timothy and himself from the unsettling exchange. And luckily for him, they are in a room full of shiny toys.

"C'n we play with yar Justice League dolls?"

Tim made a face, clearly less than pleased a stranger puts his hands on his articulated dolls (these are _actual dolls,_ not figurines. Edward would have outlined the difference).

"I'll be careful.", Jason promised. "Let's organize a great galactic fight! Ya get to choose which hero ya wanna be."

"Robin."

Of course. Jay didn't comment as Tim took a Dick Grayson-shaped toy.

"I d-d-don't have one of the Second Robin yet.", he murmured, almost as an apology. "I asked mom and dad to buy me one as soo-soo-soon as it'll exist, they will f-f-f-find it before an-nyone else ge-gets one. For now there are j-just pictures of him, no ite-tems."

"... Kay. I'm Wonder Woman."

Even a bit _unusual_ by Jason's standards, Tim Drake turned out to be a good company over the evening, they played in this living room with plastic versions of the most emblematic League's heroes whilst the reception went on in the main hall.

"How old are you?", the journalist inquired at some point of Bruce's newly adopted daughter's animated speech.

"I'm six!", Steph answered with pride, what initiated a wave of fond sighs from the adults drinking her words; everyone found her _too cute_ and _so precious._

She was used to people opining on it: her elocution, vocabulary and transparent cleverness seem to belong to a pre-teen rather than to someone that young, even though both her voice, frequent giggles and overflowing enthusiasm definitely mirror the demeanor of a dynamic _kiddo._

She specified in her 'conspiracy mode' tone:

"But I am way too smart for my own good. Age isn't relevant when you're a genius."

Vicki Vale smiled. She loved this girl already.

"That's abnormal: you really need to carry a _book_ in order to survive this lovely environment?"

"I hate those events.", the man in his mid-twenties disclosed with a deadpan intonation.

Thomas Elliot, a known figure of the gossip: it's not every billionaire, whose parents used to be _besties_ with Thomas and Martha Wayne, who spent years following an intensive treatment in a psychiatric hospital when he was a teenager. For the past years, he was often to be seen at galas, never hosting one, never actively participating to a branch of the economy in Gotham. Only... using his family's money, for nothing in particular.

A strange man, some would say.

"Then why are you here?"

Edward doesn't get why he would force himself: unlike Bruce and celebrities, Elliot figures by _no means_ among the 'golden names list' any host enjoys receiving.

"Because I don't have a choice.", the older redhead replied, defeatist.

Okay... not the easy type. Ed sneaked a peek at the leather cover of his book. What an unoriginal title: 'Poems - Volume 1', by William Wordsworth.

"Which one are you reading?", he asked to be polite, not much interested otherwise: poetry has never been his thing, he listens to musics and likes catchy lyrics like everyone, but isn't one to read poems in his free time.

"A famous one.", Elliot's tone conveyed this typical affection of someone who evokes a passion. "Always held a... special place in my heart. Like a melody inside of me."

"What's its name?"

"I wandered lonely as a cloud..."

Thomas handed him over the thin book at the accurate page.

"I know it by heart, yet I love to see it... written.", he murmured with an adoration that amused Eddie.

He hoped he sounds _less_ like an enamored nerd when he explains his computer programs, develops his theories in science or talks about Space. Given Jay and Steph's friendly mockeries whenever he steps in what they renamed his 'geek mode', one could infer he appears even _more_ like a fanboy than Elliot right now.

Edward thanked him as he grabbed the book, his eyes landed on the double page.

On the left, an illustration: the picture of a painting showing a field of yellow flowers under the sunset. Each plant curved harmoniously, as to sketch an imaginary soft wind waving through them. Everything is declined in yellow, orange, red and pink: the sun, the sky, the flowers. Only their thick stalks and a few leaves add splashes of green, as do the grass on the lower part of the image, where the painter signed his name.

On the right page of this creamy, yellowish-white paper typical of semi-old books, was written a poem in elegant ink black calligraphy. The initial letter at the left top corner is embellished with the drawing of a flower, like in a storybook. Ed didn't miss the... robin, beak in the air, distinctive with its red throat, drawn on the right lower corner, who seemingly looks up to the last word of the poem.

His global inspection achieved, he finally focused on the text body:

 _I wandered lonely as a cloud  
_ _That floats on high o'er vales and hills,  
_ _When all at once I saw a crowd,  
_ _A host, of golden daffodils;  
_ _Beside the lake, beneath the trees,  
_ _Fluttering and dancing in the breeze._

_Continuous as the stars that shine  
_ _And twinkle on the milky way,  
_ _They stretched in never-ending line  
_ _Along the margin of a bay:  
_ _Ten thousand saw I at a glance,  
_ _Tossing their heads in sprightly dance._

_The waves beside them danced; but they_  
_Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:_  
_A poet could not but be gay,_  
_In such a jocund company:_  
_I gazed —and gazed— but little thought_  
_What wealth the show to me had brought:_

_For oft, when on my couch I lie_  
_In vacant or in pensive mood,_  
_They flash upon that inward eye_  
_Which is the bliss of solitude;_  
_And then my heart with pleasure fills,_  
_And dances with the daffodils._

"Inspired."

Although Edward could have formulated a _more elaborated_ analysis of the poem, this word is the first that came to his mind.

He returned the book to its owner.

"How is this a melody?"

" _Everything_ is a melody, young man, when you simply take the time to listen. And flowers speak a wonderful language."

"... If so, what do daffodils say?"

"Daffodils are the emblem of Narcissus. The legend of a man who drowned in a lake as he watched his own reflection. He couldn't take his eyes off himself, he fell in love with his face once he discovered the beauty of it. Nothing else mattered to him than his appearance... he leaned forward, inch by inch, closer to the perfection that is his reflect... until he fell in the lake, absorbed by the depths of the water. His love for himself, for his _face,_ killed him. To immortalize what happened, a daffodil blossomed on the shores of the lake, rapidly followed by a myriad of her sisters. Beautiful, looking down to their reflect as if somehow they _know_ how superior they are. The one drawn here sends a warning to the little robin who strives to find her. She tells the bird they're not the same, it shouldn't punch above its weight."

Edward smiled. A _bright_ smirk.

"I don't like riddles.", he retorted, having so much fun playing this act. "Mysteries are _so_ confusing, I'd rather let others do the searching: I am much happier contemplating _answers_ instead of suffering the pain of doing _researches._ I must say tho, I like the illustration here! Vivid colors are pretty."

Tommy addressed him a perplexed side-glance.

"Sure.", he brushed it off, making the small book slip out of sight in an internal pocket of his vest. "This being said, I should bring new stories to read during parties. I am so bored."

"Hush, mister Elliot.", Eddie grinned like the Cheshire cat. "Do not criticize this reception out loud, you'll offend our hosts."

Thomas granted him a faint smile.

"Would you denounce me?"

"Not this time. I am not one to behave as a snitch... unless there's something interesting in there for me. Besides, it's the Drakes' fault if you're bored: it means _they_ neglect their guests."

__________

"Where is Jason?"

"Oh, he left with a weird kid earlier."

Edward arched an eyebrow.

"Don't worry.", Stephanie assured, smirking while Ed and her temporary isolated themselves from the crowd.

To do so, they landed in front of... an oversized plate of shrimps put on the giant rectangular table filled to satisfy the guests.

"I think it's the boy of the house," she clarified, "he probably wanted to play with another kid and Jaybird took the opportunity to snoop around the mansion with him. What's up?"

"I let you in charge of Jason, I have to leave. Job's calling.", he justified quickly.

No need for further details, 'job' means 'vigilantism'.

Stephie nodded.

"Is B leaving as well?"

"Nope.", Eddie shook his head no. "I can handle this."

"I'm sure you can. But if you don't tell Bruce, I'm stealing his phone to call Babs and prompt her to give you a hand."

"... Translation: in truth you think I _cannot_ handle this."

"Not what I said.", she countered, chin in the air and arms crossed on her chest, in her 'teacher' posture. "Just that if you don't want big B on your back, I'll send redhead B on your tracks. There, I let you _choose_ between the two."

Eddie smiled.

"I'm sending my geolocalisation to Barbara as soon as I exit this room."

"Good!"

He'd better do it, otherwise no doubt Steph _will_ steal Bruce's phone and ask Batgirl to babysit Robin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personal victory: it's been a moment since I wanted to have Eddie say 'Hush, mister Elliot' in one of my fics. Because let's face it, Riddler would joke / make childish puns about Tommy's alias *all the time*.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Play?_

"You abandon me? I thought you'd want nothing more than stay around to witness my breathtaking success."

Batgirl refrained the urge to roll her eyes.

"I leave you on whatever kindergarten-level mission you decided to handle while I deal with the _serious part of the job._ ", she responded. "You're lucky you were on my way, I wouldn't have given you the ride otherwise. However don't count on me to stay by your side when I am _awaited elsewhere._ "

Dressed with his uniform (Alfred is right: keeping a complete garb and gadgets in the Wayne cars _is_ super useful in case they'd have to change for an emergency), Edward alit from her bat-motorcycle. A shame their affairs don't occur over separate nights instead of during the same: he would have liked to meet the Mad Hatter Barbara chased this evening. That will be for next time.

Right now, he had his own thorny issue to untangle.

He'll blame the older redhead later for that 'kindergarten-level' qualification of his investigation.

__________

" _This_ is the address they communicated?"

The man nodded. Ed reached this location from where Babs left him four streets away, before hurrying to Jervis Tetch's scheme not far from this large storage area on the harbor.

Charles Brown sent him a direct message via one of the communicators Batman distributes to the network of informers he built amongst street kids. There is no reason Brown possesses one.

"Who gave you this?"

"I don't know... some child... It's not the matter.", he brushed off, distressed. "Are you alone? They... they asked for only you, they..."

"Who is 'they'?"

"I don't know!", he cried out. "The girl repeated a message she had been paid to transmit, I had to send the address via this... device, and wait here for Robin to show up. It's... 'Batman's part' is... for later..."

"Alright.", Edward cut.

Poor Chuck obviously has no idea what the mastermind's plan must be, Eddie won't harass him with questions. Except maybe for _a_ clarification regarding the... item he carried.

" _Why_ did you bring a kite?"

"I... I thought... if I can... It's armed.", he justified awkwardly. "It doesn't look like a weapon, it's discreet to hide widgets. It... can do something. As I do. Let me help. My... little brother should be in there."

He had been ordered not to enter the depot himself unless he wanted his brother to be electrocuted the second he steps inside.

"I'll let you know if I need help.", Edward offered, not seeing how else he could reassure the man. "They are a bomber, an hostage-taker and a narcissist who has recourse to live-action murders for their _show._ I understand it's hard, but I can't guarantee your son's safety if we cheat their rules."

Chuck's eyes opened wide.

"Charles Junior is not my... son. He..."

"Yes, sure. I concede to you that in the moment, perhaps it appeared _more simple_ to tell the kid you are siblings who lost your parents rather than to reveal you had him at seventeen and his teenage mother left the newborn at your doorstep. These were basic researches, _anyone_ can track leads and make elementary deductions from a false birth certificate."

Unable to react, he shifted, uncomfortable.

"It may seem easier today, you risk to _regret it_ if that fib goes on in the future.", Eddie foretold nevertheless. "You adults should not lie to children, they always _feel_ it when you aren't telling the truth. If you want an advise: better _you_ tell him you're his father than wait for him to find it out by himself. Trust me, he _will,_ one day or another. Now, I let you ponder over your life choices."

The door closed behind Ed when he penetrated the depot.

"That dramatic effect...", he jeered out loud.

"He-hello l-l-little Robin.", a man's pitiful intonation echoed as soon as he stood there, alone in the dimly lighted corridor.

Edward looked up. Cameras and microphones weren't even concealed.

"How rude of you, to steal a voice in place of speaking with your own. I am vexed: you sent me a _personal invitation,_ yet you don't greet me in person."

"All in good times."

Ed's whole posture stiffened. The first voice belonged to a middle-aged to old man; the second one to a _little boy._

If his proclaimed mastermind picked among the known list, there are not many options: the oldest man of the group is the sisters' father, and there are two young boys: Mockridge and Brown's sons.

Given who sent the alarm, reasonable to infer it's the second alternative.

"I am not 'having a good time'.", Robin rejected. "It's disappointing. I expected some action, where have you hidden the thrilling part?"

The same child briefed him:

"Take the door on your right. You... may like the view."

The main corridor led to a front door and the entry on his right. After a rapid but efficacious inspection to be certain the movement won't trigger a trap, he actuated the doorknob, to disclose an office.

"You have a thing for computers, don't you?"

"That's s-s-something we sha-share."

The old man was apparently _crying_ whilst the kid had managed to keep his cool.

The following sight was... strange. In the control room, four wheeled desk chairs in front of antic-looking, heavy computers. Not much else in this, except for the cameras and microphones.

At the difference that... the upper wall behind the computers is made of glass, it provided a bird's eye view on a huge storage room; two tubes have been installed on the middle of the space. Inside each said tubes, the elderly person and the little boy, who gazed at a small screen pressed at their eye level on the outside of the glass: the text they repeated, talking in a recorder that transmitted to the microphones everywhere in the warehouse.

"Don't join them," Charles Jr. went on, "or I'll have... one killed on the spot."

The kid shuddered before he was able to continue.

"You must... play by the rules. If you cheat, they die. I... I've made this game especially for you. You will love it."

"If you longed for a date so badly, you could have asked me out for dinner.", Edward retaliated, his jaw clenched. "There was no need for such subterfuge."

Charlie answered:

"Laugh."

The boy frowned, afterwards his screen likely changed as he corrected:

"This... idiotic child, doesn't understand the concept of... of... 'stage directions in a script'. Forgive that... poor voice quality, hopefully I have more promising on this computer."

In synchronization, a line of code materialized on one of the computers' screen.

**Please sit down_**

"O-obey.", the old man ordered when Ed stared at the yellow letters typed in live. "Or o-one or the two wi-will dr-drown."

So that's what the cuves are all about: spreading water from their round ceiling and having their occupants... flooded.

Sounds like a bad joke in a low-budget clown performance relying on dark humor.

Robin sat in the armchair, while keeping an eye on the room below.

A new message appeared:

**Do not cheat, if you try anything else than answer to me, someone will die_**

**Alright_** , he typed back. **Bring on this game you wanted to play_**

Albeit he doesn't see the other, Edward almost _felt_ their smile after his daring reply.

The display changed to unveil... a puzzle. A basic puzzle, like an educational game for children.

"I app-ppreciate st-statistics.", the grandpa specified. "I need to e-elaborate a data. I asked these questions to f-f-four persons so far, they didn't hit half the qu-quiz. Will you d-do better than them?"

"I _am_ better than them. Whoever they are. Nobody beats me at puzzles and mind games."

"If you s-sos-solve the entire questioning, you g-get to lea-leave with both. Otherwise I'll s-see what you did. If you passed ha-half the test, you can choose which one s-survives. Go ahead. Im-impress me."

He shouldn't enjoy the challenge given _how_ it has been introduced, but... Well. Adrenaline makes you think faster, it's not a crime he gets stimulated by demonstrating his skills.

As soon as he finished the easy conundrum, a second, more complex, popped up.

What's the matter?, Edward wondered, he used the mouse to assemble the pieces.

He _has_ the capacity to solve this puzzle, as well as to uncover the combination of any logic game.

The questions might get arduous, he _is_ one of the best hackers of this city, this country... probably the world. Irrespective of who is this faceless instigator, they can't outsmart him. He'll unlock each part of their signal, find the code, free the hostages...

That's when the 'trick' arose: a countdown on the left top corner of the screen, as well as the noise of a small bell to signify the timing begins. 50 minutes. Next to the counting, a yellow percentage bar: by solving the first two puzzles, he completed less than 1% of it.

Robin made a rapid division in his mind: two exercices correspond to approximatively 0,5% of this signal; if each question is equivalent, he should answer right to loosely 400 questions to reach 100%.

He has 50 minutes to unlock codes that would take, for someone experimented... he'd say about five, maybe six hours. Three for an expert like Barbara, James Jr. and himself. Perhaps four and a half for Bruce.

Edward didn't lose time as he got to work, each dreadful second elapsing; his gloved fingers danced so fast they became a blur above the keyboard. This is stupid. He won't fulfill the test; even if he attained half the questioning, this is not made to save both hostages. He must strike a loophole otherwise he'll just stay there, in the shoes of a guinea pig a mad scientist uses to fill out their percentages, and one of the two persons trapped over there will die.

**Imagine you are on your own, lost in a dark place, without any light on. There is no escape, no one, nothing, you are afraid, you can't find an exit. How do you get out?_**

**I stop imagining that place_**

Edward successively answered five riddles, the mental representations automatically generated in his mind.

If it stayed at this, then...

Of course, it didn't. Computer encoding replaced riddles, he cracked fourteen codes in record speed. This is... well yes, _stupid._ There is no _point,_ nothing... clever. Merely distinct questions, some more challenging than others, that he fulfilled every time.

He almost reached 50% of the test when the nature of the exercices adjusted: his opponent typed again, bright yellow on the black screen:

**Ask me three questions_**  
**I'll mention the truth for two, I'll tell you a lie for one. When you'll think of our interactions tonight, you'll get to guess _which_ one_**

Edward tried to control his raising drive. It was about time the game changed.

 **Alright_** , he typed back, then pressed the 'enter' pad on the keyboard.

 **Each of your questions_** , the interlocutor replied.  
**Must be formulated in nine words_**  
**No more, no less_**  
**In this, abbreviations count as one word_**  
**And I'll answer to you in six words. Same rules apply for me. Your turn_**

**Very well_**  
**Why choosing this group of persons for your show?_**

**They have an affection in common_**

**Can you define: towards what is this 'affection' directed?_**

**It's a standard fascination for someone_**

**Are you alone to plan and orchestrate this show?_**

**I'm not. We are watching you_**

Okay... not at all creepy.

Without transition, the screen modified itself again, to conjure up... a labyrinth. As if he was on autopilot, Eddie clicked on the directions to make his character –a bird– walk through the maze, avoid its traps. 

In any other context, he would have appreciated to participate to this kind of intellectually stimulating game.

Until it's nothing enjoyable anymore.

Lasting time: 2 minutes and 48 seconds.

"I see you haven't achieved three quarters of the quiz.", the little boy's voice concluded. "I must say though, I didn't think you'd get... that far. I knew you'd be quick, but you belong to more than the model student type, you really are... a genius."

"Flattery will get you nowhere.", Robin discarded, his eyes glued to the screens as he encoded another program. "I'm searching you. I will find you, and I will arrest you. I will make sure you pay for what you've done; you can compliment me all you want, it won't change a thing to the treatment you'll receive."

He validated his code.

The next question was loading.

"Very fair.", Charlie acknowledged. "What are you planning to do with your... 1 minute 52 seconds left?"

Robin didn't riposte verbally. This was pointless: he won't arrive at the end of the test. He won't be able to finish, this was _not designed to_ be finished.

All he could do is...

... cheat.

He could anticipate. He could...

"What a n-n-naughty brat.", the old man condemned when he slotted one of his 'emergency USB keys', what contains a homemade computer virus in charge to destroy his precedent actions for the data to never be collected, inside the machine.

"I've been called worse."

He _could have_ begun with this, whereas that wouldn't have been productive: he had 50 full minutes to try to decipher what this guy wanted before the hostages risked something, it's legitimate he _played the game,_ that he _investigated_ prior breaking the levied conditions.

The glass of the office shattered as he fired of his grapple hook through it, to land in the room below.

Focusing on the quiz didn't mean he hadn't taken the time to _study_ the complex design of the tubes from afar: casting side glances to the traps all the while typing answers and solving codes is enough to detect elementary clues.

A problem remains: the mechanisms are independent, he can't pry both human-sized tubes open at the same time. He'll have to process one _then_ the other.

"It's funny.", an off, metallic voice impossible to identify, remarked whilst water poured alarmingly fast inside the glass prisons, a consequence from his resolution to precede the countdown. "You _knew_ I wouldn't kill them if you passed half the test, that I would let you... pretend to be a hero."

"Those were your rules.", Edward affirmed, entering codes (belonging to the ones he cracked earlier) in the digital lock placed on the cage he chose to open first. "You wouldn't cheat on them."

"Exactly. And you are _following them:_ you are saving _one,_ but you won't have time for _two._ "

He glanced at the other tube.

Studying their external facade allowed him to avoid mistakes: an attempt to explode the glass won't work with the force field surrounding the cages. Only the screens on top of the tubes, where he perched, are accessible. No divergent solution to unlock the prisons other than type these computer codes.

"Don't worry, and hold your breath when it gets critical.", Ed instructed the grandpa. "I'll..."

A dart shot from the internal mechanism of the old man's tube, right into his head, piercing his skull and killing him on the spot.

The little boy screamed, Ed's domino-masked white eyes bulged in shock.

"You cheated.", the metallic voice accused him. "You honestly thought there had no security to forbid you from trying to open both if you didn't finalize my quiz?"

"You..."

No time to insult his opponent: Charlie's tube was nearly replenished with water, he held his breath over nine seconds when Edward finally cracked the interactive lock.

Water gushed on the shed's floor.

Ed helped the soaked boy on his knees, whom coughed and took in deep breaths.

"Don't watch.", he ordinated when the child's eyes drifted to the dead man, whose tube filled with water colored in red from where the dart slit his skull.

Charles nodded, his hand clutching Robin's.

"I need to retrieve something I left up there.", he indicated the office. "Then I'll come back to..."

"I'm not heavy.", the kid retorted, what made Eddie smile.

"Alright."

He lifted him up, pointed his grapple hook the other way, initiated the movement... and they both _crashed down_ as their landing spot detonated.

"Damn it!", he cursed, the tether of his grapple ruptured; a luck nonetheless, that they didn't _attain_ the office or it would have blown up with them inside. "You okay?!"

They had rolled on the ground. Charlie validated feebly, blood ran down his chin from his newly split lip. They collected a few bruises, although nothing broken or no severe injuries since they haven't fallen from a high point.

"I swear, I _hate_ grapple hooks.", Edward grumbled, what made the child smile faintly, before trepidation kicked in:

"Is the whole place gonna... explode?"

"Certainly, that's precisely why we must find another way out."

Saying so, Ed gazed at the ceiling. No windows, only one overhanging... too high, out of reach with his broken tether.

"Too bad you're going to die.", the off-voice deplored. "You made a satisfying performance, I would have liked to prolong our exchanges. Not that I expected much, you Birdies are barely a distraction the Bat drags along with him. He will be far more interesting to analyze."

"Who are you?! Show up!"

He obtained no answer.

"We need to leave... Don't touch the rope!", Edward screamed, stopping the boy's action.

That kid is resourceful, searching something to propel themselves to the top window. Except that the depot's system must have been studied: the pulleys hanging from the ceiling are covered of a slick, viscous substance.

"... It's poison.", Robin defined, more out of instinct than certitude: the black fluid which coats the ropes seems by _no means_ inoffensive.

No idea what harm this specific poison causes, but no doubt this isn't applied here to be benign. Pamela Isley is visibly not the sole person who plays with dangerous substances.

Scared, Charles retracted his fingers of a few centimeters from the rope.

"Now... what do we do?"

"We stay alive."

The thunderous noise screeched in his ears.

The off-voice echoed in his head as it commented his actions when he jumped in a metal trunk... that has, let's face it, plausibly been _left there_ on purpose.

Edward couldn't tell why, yet he was coaxed the mastermind never wanted _him_ dead, thus they arranged a security exit in case the depot would blow up with him inside.

Not that Ed would express empathy for that charming attention.

A strong pressure opened the burning hot trunk. Oxygen circulated in his immediate environment; Edward blinked twice, at a loss. What was he doing here... inside a trunk, a little boy in his arms he held close to _protect..._ a little boy that was not Jason?! What...

Someone helped him stand up, eyed him over to see if he wasn't hurt, before doing the same, more hysterically, with the kiddo, who passed out from the sound of the explosion.

"... Thanks for the hand.", he whispered, cautiously moving his head left to right, concentrated not to faint.

The buzzing sound that vibrated in his eardrums and fogged his brain dissipated, his surroundings gradually cleared up.

"Chuck!"

As soon as he cracked an eye open, the boy gripped his father tightly. Charles Senior cried more than Junior. Robin smiled... then saw himself pulled into the hug by Charlie's imperious little hand.

Fine by him, questions will be for _later._

__________

"We're in charge.", Renee Montoya assured.

No need to drag Gordon out of bed, presently the Commissioner was at Mad Hatter's attack Batgirl thwarted. Montoya and her cop buddy Harvey Bullock –whom looked like a _zombie_ desperate for sleep– will take care of the judicial aspect of their case.

They parted after Edward, Charlie and Chuck roughly summarized the setting and what happened in this warehouse. Even though the explosive charges weren't enough to _destroy_ the entire place, it's improbable they'd discover any element relevant for an investigation.

Once it was done, Bruce and Edward let the follow-up under the GCPD's care for tonight.

From the instant Charlie and Eddie described the stage and its conditions, Batman morphed into a block of cold, hard anger.

At first Robin assumed it's due to how he hadn't notified him he quited the gala, and hasn't called for back-up when he entered the storage area.

Then he speculated it's a result of Batman being unable to reach the location on time to prevent it from detonating.

Third he thought it's linked to the scheme itself: the fact lives were threatened and someone died at the end.

All things considered, now that they were just the two of them in the Batmobile, he deduced his mentor's ire has a different target. And that made _him_ very angry as well.

"Stop the car.", he snapped once he was persuaded he figured it out.

As soon as he parked the Batmobile in a side alley, Edward hissed:

"Why are you angry at _me_?! I am not the one to blame, I did good tonight! Or is it because I didn't succeed at saving both hostages? How about you focus on the one who's _alive,_ instead of remembering exclusively the dead body?!"

"I am _angry._ ", Bruce growled, unwilling to keep the mystery around his infuriated state. "Because given the circumstances, you accepted to: play a 'game' with a madman, follow their rules, be their... experiment. You enjoyed yourself cracking silly computer codes, like a snotty child invested in a video game, who cuts himself off from the outside world and doesn't care about anything but his immediate amusement. I am convinced you didn't even _try_ to save both hostages."

There. _The_ words have been pronounced.

Eddie kept his mouth shut a good twenty seconds, trying not to erupt internally with _rage._ That's it, that's all Batman will keep in mind? That's all he... thinks of him?!

Without a word, his expression statufied, the teenager clicked on a small button of the control board to pull up the vehicle cabin, opened his door, stood up from the leather passenger seat and stormed out of the Batmobile.

"Robin!"

Not granting a glance to the Bat who called him twice again, urging him to come back, Edward ran out in the freezing Gotham night.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good doctor.

"Hurt me."

This... is _not_ how Jonathan Crane expected to be greeted when he entered the hideout. The time of the day never meant much whenever he got fully involved in his experiments: he was working on his upcoming scheme, alone in his current 'office', equations scribbled on blackboards, various toxin components in test tubes on the desk nearby, he ingested his fifth cup of black coffee, not registering anything of his surroundings, when his phone buzzed.

Which is, in itself, unusual enough to capture his attention.

Pamela never calls outside their teamed-up actions, and he wasn't supposed to meet Jervis any soon, the Hatter being in the middle of an incoming attack elaboration when he spoke to him two days ago.

 _I am at our place._ , Edward had texted him. _Come. It's urgent._

In another context, Jon would reply he doesn't like the boy's tone, that it is not the teen's role to give _him_ orders. So it surprised himself not to be more bothered than this by the directive, he mirrored a laconic:

_On my way. I'll be there in twenty minutes._

He arrived a bit prior said delay, since walking through Gotham at this late hour doesn't imply avoiding crowded places.

The professor left his researches, only bringing an habitual fear toxin-loaded weapon to defend himself in prevention of unfortunate encounter with a bat, a street fight, a junkie getting too close... recurring night sights in the heart of this lovely city. Dressed with an ordinary civilian outfit, toxin vials hidden in his thick winter coat, Jon climbed the stairs of the small building, reached their floor, took the required steps in the corridor. He opened the door, rapidly closed it behind him... and was faced with an, unmistakably, _angry as Hell_ teenager, who repeated his initial demand more forcefully when Jon didn't react:

"Hurt. _Me._ "

Edward's hands gripped the front of his coat to pull him down for a rough kiss.

Jonathan let him go on with the movement, he half-returned the kiss before long, spidery fingers locked around the younger one's slim wrists. Jon pulled away, maintaining a tight hold on Ed's hands; he eyed him over to determine the source of the disturbance.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. I just... need. Come on. _Give_ me."

He reiterated the gesture to pull him down, what this time, Jon anticipated: he easily pushed the kid off. He removed his coat and weapons, placed them on the American kitchen countertop then renewed:

"What is it?"

Something distraught his boy.

He took a shower, according to his humid orange hair, falling to his chest where it wet his mauve bathrobe. Jon didn't remember leaving a dressing gown in this apartment, the kid probably brought clothes here over the past months. Boxes that weren't his bloomed at random inside the flat; although he noticed their apparitions, the doctor hadn't sneaked a peek at these. Not by respect for the child's privacy, more due to a blatant _absence_ of elementary curiosity.

"You were right.", the ginger reported, aggressive. "I don't want you to make out with other people now that we're a couple. So there, make out with _me._ "

A defiant spark shone in his green iris, he burnt internally with _rage._ Jonathan's eyes traveled across the patches of exposed skin. The boy's bathing robe is short, ending at mid-thighs, it bares the rest of smooth, pale complexion lightly freckled on which pink and white scars line up, more or less ancient, more or less numerous depending on the area. The legs aren't where most old injuries brand his body, albeit a few thin marks are visible on his calves, knees and thighs.

It's not a scar that caught Jon's attention though, but the recent _bruise_ on the right side of his face. The tip of his index brushed against the damaged skin.

"Fighting?"

"Falling.", the kid corrected truthfully, lowering his gaze. "Something... sorta backfired on me. Didn't fall from a high spot, not a complication to worry about."

"If you say so... How many _other_ fresh injuries are lying under this robe?"

"Nothing more serious than bruises.", Edward assured, uninterested in expanding on the subject.

His mischievous smirk returned as he pursued:

"Why won't you take that robe off yourself to find out? Give me a consultation. Be a _good doctor._ "

Jonathan stopped the movement as he tried to bring him closer for another kiss.

"No."

"... What, 'no'?"

Ed felt kinda stupid, playing blunt stripper for a partner who... cools him off? Why on Earth isn't Jonathan jumping on the occasion?!

"I mean... Are you sure?", Jon rectified in a delicate intonation.

He anticipated the teen's resentment, he didn't want him to feel hurt by his refusal. Wrong thing to say: it caused the redhead to frown deeply.

"Am I 'sure'?", he quoted, perplexed. "We've been having sex since I am twelve years old, but tonight... it's an issue?!"

Alright. He may wasn't 'hurt', he was back at little-ball-of-rage mode.

"Who made you angry?"

"Jon..."

The doctor cast him a severe glance.

"Don't you start psychoanalyzing me, Crane. I am not in the mood. I just want you to..."

"... hurt you?", the doctor complemented, what was met by a vigorous nod.

Jonathan sighed.

"What are you doing here at this hour? Don't you have kids to watch over?"

"They're not part of the problem."

"Is Bruce Wayne part of the problem?"

Edward raised both eyebrows. His eldest shook his head.

"The richest man in town adopting three wards all at once is a news the tabloid won't cast out of the spotlight before a while. I don't waste my time on gossip, I am _aware nonetheless_ of the main evolutions in this city."

Now he thinks of it, it seems coherent Jon logged his social status.

"... I went to a gala with Bruce this evening.", he informed him.

After all, pictures _will_ circulate. Vicki Vale was present, the whole town counts on her to keep everyone abreast of each detail in the lives of the upper class.

"How was it? A disaster? A terribly boring moment?"

"None options, truth be told it... was sort of funny during the event itself. Until _after_ the party: apparently I... didn't behave as presumed. I thought I acted right, that I... did my best. Given Bruce's reproaches when we left, clearly I didn't."

Ed couldn't tell whether Jon knew he was lying or not. He didn't relaunch however, so neither will Robin. It isn't the gala Jonathan retained:

"Then _where_ does the bruise on your cheek come from? You didn't 'fall' at that party."

"Accidental encounter in the streets before coming here."

"Is that what Wayne wants you to say to people who would notice?"

"... Bruce doesn't hit me.", he voiced quietly when he understood what Jon tried to figure out. "I swear. He never hurt me, in any sense of the term. He is... nice. At least as much as someone like him can be, I'd say he is..."

"A good parent?"

Ed mused over the definition.

"Even if officially speaking, he _does_ have a shared custody with my father, I don't think I'll ever fully consider him a 'parent'. Same goes for Steph and Jason, to us Bruce Wayne is more of... a great friend, so is his butler. Kinda like 'that cool uncle we never knew about, who appeared out of the blue and suddenly became indispensable in our lives'. See what I mean?"

"It's a common trope.", the doctor approved, to Ed's surprise: his sayings sounded confusing to his own ears, he felt rather _suspicious_ Jonathan finds his statement logical. "I observed it multiple times during my studies in psychiatry: for babies, children, to pre-teens aside from some exceptions, adoption when it goes well allows the subjects to create a real parents-child relationship. For youngsters who are adopted as teenagers, the bond is often closer to a strong friendship or a mentor / apprentice affection. It's rare a fourteen to seventeen years old, especially one with a background that involves abuse and / or multiple responsibilities they undertook way too early in order to survive and provide for others, considers their adopter their 'parent'. Not my intention to belittle your situation, but teens coming from an abusive household who protect and look out for their younger siblings is not an infrequent case. _You_ may be unique, fragments from your history are not."

Eddie nodded. This analysis is... totally sensible indeed.

Jon went on with a _far less pertinent_ remark:

"What does Bruce Wayne think about your method to cope with a dispute: by leaving at night to meet a rogue in an hideout and straight up ask him to fuck you?"

"One: I was not asking for something 'straight' from my boyfriend."

Jonathan didn't dignify this with a response.

"Two: _of course_ Bruce doesn't know about you nor our... arrangement. I won't tell if you don't."

Eddie's hands rested on the doctor's hips to slide to the upper thighs, his gesture applying an expert combination of pressure and strokes to leave the other longing for more.

"Stockholm syndrome, fearful-avoidant attachment, PTSD-induced behavorial patterns, targeted strategies to cope with your monophobia, your unadmitted fear to be alone, and your athazagoraphobia, fear of being abandoned or neglected by someone you developed affection for. These are what you feel for me.", Jonathan murmured, he put a hand on the boy's chest, _applying just enough pressure_ in return, to keep the teen from going on with his ministrations.

"Call it as you wish. Personally I opt for 'love' but if 'scary diagnosis' suits you better, then so be it."

The teacher sighed again.

From there the boy manoeuvred them to the bedroom, never breaking contact, pulling, stroking, being somehow both: insufferable in the way he kept his carresses _teasing,_ and seductive with the comments and expert touches he delivered until they sat on the large bed in the space adjacent to the living room.

"... Stockholm syndrome," the former psychiatrist repeated, "fearful-avoidant attachment, PTSD-induced behavorial patterns, monophobia, and athazagoraphobia. You are not faking, you _sincerely_ think you love me. In similar cases, victims feel that way until they either break their fascination for their abuser or fall in love with someone else."

Eddie withdrew on the mattress, his quizzical expression mixed with an intense displeasure.

"Why do you say things like that?! You are _not_ an abuser, Jon! Believe me, I _know_ what I'm talking about. You never..."

"I dare you to claim we share an 'healthy relationship'.", he scoffed, though no humor reflected in this sentence. "Just the _way_ we met, it reveals we won't ever..."

"Oh, shush.", Ed rolled his eyes, frustrated. "Don't start bringing that up to justify whatever psychological theories you nurture about me, we've gone a long way since then! Besides it's not like you _initiated_ anything in my current mental state or previous ways to earn money: you weren't even my first."

He said that to soothe what he identified as a growing tension from Jonathan. It didn't work, the doctor appeared... flustered.

"... You were."

Those two words froze Ed on the spot.

"What?"

Jon smiled slightly.

"I suppose I would have told you one day, so... why not tonight. You were my first."

Edward paused, contradictory feelings jostled in his mind.

"You were... thirty-three. How come..."

"And as you reminded, you were _twelve._ I may was considered 'late' for a first time, you were _awfully young_ to be experienced."

Eddie kept quiet.

He wouldn't have... guessed it. That day, before they did anything, Jonathan warned he won't tolerate any comment on his appearance. Ed had approved, it became part of the contract. He didn't think this was linked to... undressing in front of someone for the first time, he merely reckoned the objective reasons: a tall, skinny, angular man with greasy brown hair, a crooked nose and whose whole body is _covered_ in scars wouldn't appreciate having his looks pointed out, so even less by someone he pays for services. With a single glance, anyone could sense the past bullying and still-actual mean inputs about his unusual physique.

Not that Edward would have said anything, instructions or not.

Not that Edward ever found him ugly. Quite the contrary.

On the bed, Ed raised on his knees to put his lips on one of his favorite scars, the one featuring the shape of a sloped X, starting on Jonathan's right temple and covering his cheek. He peeked small, fluttery kisses on the rough texture, from the temple to the lower extremity of the mark, then moved, delicate, to the Indiana Jones-like scar on his chin... he ended by a kiss on the doctor's lips. Jon opened his mouth, letting him pursue his exploration. The kiss remained soft, gentle.

Comforting.

"I'm honored I was your first.", Eddie whispered when they parted.

He was by no means mocking, or judging. Just... happy, in a way he couldn't explain. He felt proud, to think he is the first person Jonathan shared intimate contacts with.

"You didn't surmise?"

"No... I noted you were uncomfortable initially, and that once into the action you belonged to the 'cumming fast' type.", he relativised, with a disconcerting ease regarding the themes; he effortlessly recalled the scene. "I did assume I was a _sort of first:_ I thought either it was the first time you brought someone you paid to your flat, or the first time you'll have sex with... someone that young."

This made Jon look almost... shy.

"Age counted.", he confessed. "It took me _months_ to come to terms with frequenting that type of network. When I did, I convinced myself I'd begin with an adult woman."

"So why did you end up with a pre-teen boy?"

"... I am not sure. I hypothesized someone younger... wouldn't laugh, while an adult won't help but make fun of me no matter what. As for boy or girl? You were wearing a pink mini-skirt, fishnet stockings, laced corset, makeup and heels, from afar you didn't... resemble a boy. Not that I minded when I got a closer look. I... always knew I am interested in both genders. And that it changes nothing, since neither is interested in me."

Edward cuddled against him. He didn't highlight Jon kept in mind what he wore that night; he considered it his luck he approached Jonathan's open window car before another just as young, dressed similarly, boy or girl, did so. No need to _search_ when one wants to benefit of those services: some quarters in Gotham, specifically at precise hours, teem with people working the streets, everyone knows where to go to automatically find someone.

That's not what Ed outlined, he preferably picked Jon's last sentence:

"Do you need many people to love you as you are? Body, mind, intelligence, humor, wit? Isn't _one_ person enough?"

"...", is the sole response Edward obtained, alongside Jonathan watching him without blinking, comparable to a reptilian incapable to express feelings.

Alright... he should let the doctor process the data.

"I am not telling you who was _my_ first, because I don't know his name.", he ironised. "And I am _so_ not giving you a list of everybody else."

"... Well you may were the first, it's been a while since you are no longer the only one. Just the _only one_ I... kept coming to across the years. I'm glad I did."

"So am I."

They shared a smile.

"You know, I don't mind you don't believe me.", Eddie appended softly, his previous ire washed away, replaced by a genuine fondness. "One day you'll see, I _will_ convince you I am in love with you."

He kissed him, more demanding. Ed threw his arms around his neck to pull him closer, Jon leaned into the movement until Edward rested with his back on the mattress, one hand tangled in the doctor's brown hair, the other unbuttoning his shirt. His bathrobe unwrapped, Jonathan's finger traced a line of skin from his collarbone to his chest, belly, hip, thigh... without meeting the resistance of any layer of clothing under the robe. The professor mouthed his neck on his left, sucking, already marking.

His boy. _His._

"Do you still want to get 'hurt'?"

The teen's eyes gleamed again: determined light green gemstones, shining with _desire,_ not raging like before.

Hungry but not angry.

Just... pretty.

"I want you to make me scream."

"... And strong masochistic tendencies, here linked to a constant self-depreciation you dissimulate behind a played arrogance, to what add up disastrous self-esteem issues.", Jon rounded off his diagnosis. "You _really_ need a doctor."

Jonathan didn't request more stimulation, he lost no time getting further involved in offering Edward an in-depth analysis.

__________

Jenna Duffy awoke with a start at the sound.

Whereas she was a bit old to believe a monster lurked beneath her bed, ready to catch her ankles if she inadvertently put her feet on the wooden floor, cold sweat materialized on her spine. She quickly turned her bedside lamp on, gazed at her bedroom's door... the knocking started again, her amber eyes drifted to the left, toward the window.

Relief invaded her senses as she exited the pleasant warmth of the blankets, stood up in her pajama, and opened the window to let him in.

"My parents will get mad at me if I keep allowing stray cats to come and go at our place."

The younger teen returned a cheerful gaze, he made himself at home whilst she closed back the window, blocking the frosty December atmosphere from colonizing the inside space.

"I'm gonna say I spent the night at your place.", he briefed her, taking a look at her alarmclock on the bedside table. "The... whole night."

"Where were you the _rest_ of the night?"

He was about to lie or provide an evasive answer, when the girl's eyes narrowed, she isolated a spot on his left... and obviously refrained herself from bursting out laughing.

"Are you aware you have a _huge_ hickey right there?"

Edward suited up a complete clean attire taken from a cupboard where he stores a few clothes of his in the hideout. Prior Jon arrived, by precautions he hid his Robin uniform in a backpack he carried with him.

"... I should have asked him not to mark above the collar shirt, now I'll have to wear turtlenecks all week.", he grumbled. "Though I am not sure he would have listened."

Jenna guffawed.

"This is gross.", she declared playfully. "Do you want... disinfectant, if he nipped you? Be my guest to use the bathroom, I'll get you a towel and changes."

Edward eyed her with disbelief.

"It's not a bite, it doesn't need to be... treated. And I showered at his place anyway. Twice, when arriving and before leaving."

"So... what's wrong? You seem agitated, shouldn't you be... like... over the moon after your first night?"

Is it trendy tonight to talk about sexual experience?

"Not my first.", he countered, albeit unwilling to enter into details with a seventeen years old high schooler living at her parents'.

Getting this was not the reason of his visit and that he won't linger on the topic, Jenna nodded in agreement.

"Come in," she proposed, "I'll get you a bedding."

They reached the end of the corridor where a large closet contains supplies such as blankets, sheets, and two rolled up thin mattresses for guests. Noiselessly not to disturb the sleepy inhabitants of the house, they brought useful items to her bedroom.

"And that's for you."

Jenna pitched a green shawl at his general direction whilst Eddie loosened the straps to unfold his mattress.

"What is it for...?"

"The incoming morning.", she enlightened very seriously. "I prefer my mom and dad assume you're chilly than having them thinking I bit you after you sneaked in my bedroom at night."

They both giggled like kiddos.

"Again, it's not a 'bite'.", Eddie corrected, amused. "But... thanks, I keep that scarf."

He laid down under the blankets after removing his shoes, jacket and jeans he folded in a neat pile.

"What happened?", Jenna inquired thereafter, once they were both nested inside the comforting heat of each their bedding. "There's a trigger to you going to your boyfriend's and have a grand night in, right? You're still upset about it."

"... I had a fight with B-man."

He integrally tossed it aside during his time with Jon; the insecurities kicked back in over the subway travel (a positive side of living in Gotham: in this town public transports _never stop running,_ no matter the time of the night) plus the walk to his friend's home.

"What was it about?"

"Something concerning me."

He eyed the ceiling, confusion crashing through him.

"I always... acknowledged it, like an element of who I am. Of _what_ I am, not that it's a qualification to be proud of. I know it fits me, I am not ashamed. Tonight however, Batman made me feel like it _is_ something to be ashamed of. Doing so, he reminded me that no matter what I've done, no matter how hard I might... try to get better at... everything, it's... still the truth."

"What is 'still true'?", she pushed forward, genuinely interested.

Eddie hesitated. This was not wrong, _he_ was not _wrong..._ was he?

He saved a little boy in place of an old man. He would have rescued both if he had been given the chance; naturally he _chose_ to save the child first, this is... common sense. What was Bruce's purpose when making him feel like he has done _wrong?_ What was he... insinuating?

"I am not a good person."

The words floated in the ambient air. Edward didn't sound sad about that self-proclaimed veracity, neither did he feel awkward. He is simply... convinced of it, not knowing why today it should be a trouble while it wasn't over the past sixteen years.

Jenna made no attempt to disabuse him, what he dearly appreciated. She didn't ask why he seems so coaxed of this, even though she couldn't help think he definitely has a tendency to... go too hard on himself. Instead of judging the habit, she rather tried to redirect the focus:

"Is Batman one?"

Edward stayed silent nearly a full minute, turning the possibility in his head, unable to grasp a proper answer to this riddle. When he concurred he has no idea how to analyze it, he responded a casual:

"Good question..."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty Little Liars.

"You're an _idiot,_ you know that?"

Stephanie threw the ball forcefully, aiming for Bruce's stomach. He had no difficulties catching it, nonetheless he noted, a sentiment of pride invading his chest, how practical and valuable in a fight the girl's energy would turn out to be.

He tossed it back.

He didn't save time to blame Edward further, or even to have an explanation with him when the teen returned: over the following evening they dealt with Winslow Schott spreading a pre-attack message, the tomorrow day they intervened to thwart his scheme. Batman regretted that maniac stays in Gotham City, he wished Clark kept his supervillains in Metropolis instead of letting some getting seduced by _his_ town and colonizing _his_ streets. Some people are so ill-bred.

Each their Rogues Gallery, Bruce is not the 'sharing type'; he would take it very bad if one day Poison Ivy, Joker, Scarecrow, Catwoman or Mad Hatter flirted with Clark, Diana, Barry or Arthur Curry. He would have liked the same works reversal, he deems his colleagues heroes must _keep their villains._

So yes, Edward found the programming to disconnect Toyman's main robot, he tracked the signal that turned on replicas sold in supermarkets.

The warning circulated, parents who bought this robot for Christmas have been invited to return each killer-metallic-doll to the GCPD, where the cybercrime department removed the electronic microchips inserted inside the toys' square heads.

Always at their best to fight crime, the police succeeded at... depriving kids from an incoming present their parents bought for them. Some families will have to find another idea, hopefully they'll be more inspired than 'killerbots' for Christmas.

"Why hasn't he waited the 25 of December to attack?", Jim Gordon had asked, perplexed, whilst the tiny man was evacuated to Arkham asylum.

"Your question is: why children sneak a peek inside the wardrobe in their parents' bedroom once they noticed the flashy gift wrapping supposedly 'dissimulated' in there?", Robin jeered, his smug smirk on. "Toyman probably prepares this for _weeks,_ we may are at the beginning of December, he conceivably grew too impatient to keep waiting. The ambiance is already established: the Christmas market is open, themed decorations blossom across town, people think of what to buy for their relatives and friends. Even early in the month, he is not out of scope regarding the season."

The Commissioner agreed. If rogues launch their onslaughts the first days of December in place of _during_ the celebrations, maybe he'll enjoy a peaceful Christmas at last, without his presence being required at the GCPD for the... sixth year in a row.

Gordon had crossed his fingers for this year to be clement with him.

This Wednesday afternoon, Stephanie requested a training session, which Bruce gladly provided in the gymnasium... only to realize she had the firm intention to settle her scores with him about the current morose atmosphere.

Ed and Bruce had been efficacious throughout Toyman's interlude, they proved each other they _are_ a functioning Dynamic Duo. As soon as they went back home however, the atmosphere tensed again between them, what no one missed at Wayne Manor.

"Look Steph, I don't know what Edward told you..."

"What do you think?", she sneered, dismissive. "As ever: he _lied._ He said you two had a fight after one of the hostages died during the scheme he handled alone. And that rather than being supportive, you made it clear you believe if _you_ had been there, _both_ would be alive!"

She picked a small round leather ball in the wicker basket nearby, thereupon she bowled the projectile toward the targets in the shooting area of the gym.

Even if she didn't reach the center every time, she never misfired the panels.

Batman's coaching since this summer paid off: Stephanie and Jason are, at their level, skilled athletes. Whereas they were relatively gifted and physically enduring from the start, they have also been quick studies, dedicated to put the Bat's training into practice, and it shows. Although Edward refuses to get involved in activities he judges, to quote him, too "brutal" or "Neanderthal-adapted, optimal to destroy someone's braincells" (that's what he thinks of any team sports involving a ball...), he participates to most exercises. Not to mention, Bruce saw how he plays _way more openly_ when he is just with his siblings.

Aesthetic matters far less when having fun with them, while he preserves a slight facade when it comes to Bruce and Alfred.

"What part of this is a lie to you? Adjust your arm. Like that.", he advised, figuring the position. "Keep your gesture ample: as it is, your impulse is perfect from the elbow to the wrist, but to use your full strength you must have recourse to an _entire_ body motion. Shoulder, neck, back, hips. Even the legs help, instinctively you angled your feet in accordance with the movement. Bring out your integral potential."

He mimed the gesture in slow motion. Stephanie replicated the model once, then enforced it at normal speed.

Her red ball hit the center of the target with way more potency than the previous ones.

"The _following_ part is a lie.", she answered to her mentor's initial question as she performed the move additional times to thoroughly log the gesture in her reflexes. "The part when he reported he spent the night at Jenna's after your dispute."

"Don't forget the left side."

"I won't."

It's something Batman emphasized over trainings. He's right hander too; even if practice didn't make him 100% ambidextrous, he _is_ able to rely on his left as much as his dominant side during actions, fights and precise gestures, such as when shooting of his grapple, pitching batarangs or firing gadgets.

Steph inversed the position to duplicate it on her left.

"Are you sure?", he belabored, troubled.

He wasn't worried when Edward left the Batmobile, he comprehended he needs to cool off alone. The tomorrow day he called Alfred to say he'll join at the children's elementary school, from then neither Bruce nor him evoked the warehouse at the harbor. They would necessarily have if it wasn't for Toyman's plan, which they solved yesterday evening.

"The problem with Ed," Stephie demonstrated again she is too mature for her age in her manner to grasp a state of affairs, "is that he thinks being a good liar suffices to avoid having people worrying. Too bad for him, I _know_ when he's hidding the truth, I can certify he is way more angry at you than he lets on. And that he did something else than a simple night at a friend's."

"A good liar...", the Bat repeated, not that this constitutes a breaking news about the teen. "If you are aware of this, doesn't it mean, by principle, that he is _not that good?"_

"Well... I detect _when_ he lies, that's not especially relevant in itself since I never figure out _what_ he hides.", she dithered, a hint sheepish. "Even when it's not deliberate, he is lying by omission. All the time. About... basically everything. Jay and I are used to it, still..."

She seemed guilty all of a sudden.

"I hoped he... would make an effort, to... change this habit now that we live with you. Yet nope, he adapted but hasn't quited lying. Beginning by your investigations together: I'm sure he isn't telling you 50% of what he does on his own to solve cases, that he doesn't share his personal researches. So there. He won't tell you either when you hurt him, and even less how he copes with that."

Bruce reflexioned upon these, admittedly, mildly _worrisome_ elements.

"Are you angry at him when he does that?"

"No... If I was mad at Edward for keeping secrets, I would be angry all the time. And that's about the _opposite_ of my philosophy.", the little girl offered him a luminous smile.

Seeing how she asserts her forever optimistic view to apprehend the world warms up Bruce's heart.

"It's... part of who he is.", she added softly, in a protective intonation. "Everyone has their insecurities, I am not expecting him to overcome his all at once."

They switched to another activity.

"It's far from being the first time," Bruce remarked, he put gloves on and gestured for her to kick at the height where he placed his hands, to work on strength and flexibility, "but once again: sometimes, you speak like an adult."

"I hope not too much!", she giggled, her voice and behaviors belonging as for them, to a legit child's. "Adults are boring."

"Should I translate _I am_ boring?"

"You're not! That's because you may be in your thirties, in terms of personality you are something like fourteen / fifteen: you have the spirit of a moody goth teenager who pouts and blames it on others when a situation displeases him, you hide from the sun, you spend all days and nights the way you want without bothering with a normal life schedule. Hell, you don't even: cook your dinners, go to the stores, clean your room or iron your clothes! You have Alfred do it, and now so does Edward! I swear, Ed may be internally a bratty genius kid craving attention and Jason and I bold, boastful children, _you_ are no more of an adult than we are."

Bruce wished he could refute this analysis highlighting his lack of maturity. He must concede though, she... said the truth.

"What about you? If you can tell so easily when Ed is lying, does that mean you do the same?"

"Of course. Even if for me it's different: Eddie knows everything I do, so _unlike him,_ I don't have secret pastimes or anything of that kind to hide from him. That doesn't mean I don't have secrets, too."

"Like what?"

"If I tell you, these won't be 'secrets' anymore, dummy."

Bruce shook his head.

"Dick is _the_ reason Batman is... appreciated as a _hero_ in town.", he confessed, his tone husky as he phrased those words in front of someone. "If it wasn't for my... son, I wouldn't be a non-lethal fighter who wants to bring justice in this city."

Stephie frowned midly. Bruce could almost see the gears turning in her brain as she assembled the pieces.

"Would you kill criminals, to the point you... might have become one yourself, if you didn't cross paths with Dick in your early 'vigilante career'?"

"I won't ever know.", he responded earnestly. "And neither will Gotham, I _crossed paths with Dick_ early enough for him to... change me. The way I see it nevertheless? I wouldn't have made a 'no killing rule' my number one priority if I weren't the parent of an optimistic, ever-smiling and positive child who was, and still is... a ray of sunshine."

The Bat blocked her right foot, she adjusted her position as he raised his hands for her to reach higher.

"Therefore, now that you told me a secret," she inferred, focused on the invisible line she must attain with her feet, "you expect I'll reward you with one of mine."

"Will you?"

She hesitated, not slowing the cadency of her 'attacks' Bruce halted then asked her to start again. He is a good teacher, she is a good student. Thus, as she saw it, the awaited continuation is that she _won't wait for an invitation_ to play vigilante. With Batman or on her own, both sound appealing.

"It's been months since I last saw my mom and dad.", she concurred to unveil the first fib she thought of. "I tell Edward I don't care, and that it doesn't matter to me, but... sometimes, I wished I had a choice in the matter. Like when he... decided _all by himself_ to take a house, work much harder than anyone asked him to, live with me, then welcome Jason in our lives after he met him."

"I thought your parents didn't want to take care of you."

"They've never been 'competent'. Despite that, they wouldn't have cast us out! Sure I don't... really have _detailed memories,_ I know Ed divided his time between their house and his father's, more at my parents' since my birth. He could have stuck to this status quo, he didn't have to do _more_ just... to protect me."

Steph interrupted the kicks. She looked down.

"Sometimes I wish he wouldn't have tried so hard. Because the day he tells me, or more likely: the day I _find out,_ what he did, I will blame it on me. I never asked him to quit school, take a house, become a full-time parent to replace mine... ruin his teenage years for me to have a happy childhood."

Her chin shook.

"And _of course_ I'd never tell him that. Because I am so... grateful, I won't ever be able to repay him for everything. So I lie. By omission. I pretend I am not aware he did so much for me, that there is... literally no other reason than _me_ as his starting point. At our house, I purported not to see the bruises on his face and not to guess he has more under his clothes, I faked not to notice the drops of blood on the bathroom floor, the bandages in the trash, or acted as if I didn't hear him wince when he treated his wounds. To this day I brush off the screams when he has nightmares. I allege I don't feel responsible for any of it, when I know it's... my fault."

Bruce reached out to her.

"You're wrong.", he whispered, his callous thumb tucked a blond strand of hair behind her ear. "The worst sacrifice doesn't lie for him in what he _did,_ contrariwise it would be to suspect you blame yourself over it. Don't ever think _his_ decisions are _your_ fault."

"... How _would you know_ how to talk for Eddie?"

"I know.", he promised. "Because in reverse situation, _I would feel_ the same."

Stephanie stuck out her tongue at him, slipping back into 'kiddo mode'.

"I hate you, big guy.", she taunted playfully. "I have no idea how you do it, but... everything about you, makes children at _ease._ No wonder you bond with youngsters instead of adults during investigations and have a network of informers among street kids. You are a bizarre version of a... creepy-yet-strangely-friendly Santa Claus who cosplays a Dracula dressed in black."

They laughed at the image.

Perhaps Steph is a better liar than Ed, in the end. Because although he never confided traumas or anything of that type, some of his instinctive reactions, comments, looks on his face or demeanor _are_ eye-opening for someone observing. While Stephanie? She radiates... joy. Bruce wouldn't have bet she does worse self-blaming than Edward. Certainly Eddie never foresaw it either, otherwise he would have reassured her, would have sworn none of this is true.

Doing so... would he have been lying? From the fragments Bruce patched about them, he couldn't tell, couldn't isolate another motive than his attachment to the Brown family's daughter, for Edward to quit being a child. He may didn't have a standard home life, he went to school, didn't live in the streets, was given food, clothes and free access to a house's commodities. Albeit not ideal, he could have... kept it idle. He had no reason outside Stephanie to suit up the role of a parent.

"How do you know when he lies?", the Bat attempted to decipher afterwards, forcing his voice to stay gentle as unnerving thoughts hustled in his mind.

"From a liar to another, we recognize each other's tricks. He _raised me,_ I may haven't uncovered his secrets, he can't fool me, I always know when he isn't telling everything or deliberately 'forgetting' to reveal something."

"So you reckon you are yourself... a good liar?"

There's _so much_ he needed to discover about those children.

"Of course.", Stephanie ensured as if that was the most evident thing in the world. "In itself, _that's_ not a secret. After all, between Edward and now you, in matter of liars, I have the best teachers."

__________

Even though they... act their age, that is to say play, talk, reflexion and behave as _kids,_ there's no ambiguity in regards to the fact Stephanie and Jason are frequently the mature ones who deal with Edward and Bruce's petty disputes. And Alfred found this intolerable.

"Master Bruce, if you don't want me to give you a _spanking_ for misbehaving like when you were _five,_ you must fix this."

"I have nothing to 'fix'.", he growled, unamused. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

He was sitting in front of the Batcomputer.

"You may haven't done 'anything wrong', it's time to do _something nice._ "

Alfred eyed the official mail on the screen Hawkgirl communicated.

"For example, propose him to come with you."

"Why would I?!", the knight objected. "I never brought Dick to a Justice League meeting, I have no intention to invite Edward! It's not even..."

Given the British man's austere expression, it's clear arguing will be fruitless.

"Fine.", he grumbled. "I'll ask him if he is interested."

All things considered, the opportunity could be beneficial, this same week, to break the ice with the teenager by making a significant gesture.

"Getting invited to the Watchtower should shut the kid up and make him realize he has to _stop_ being angry at me."

"... Please master Bruce, do _not_ introduce it like this."

As promised, Bruce rehearsed to appear a little more courteous when he stepped in the living-room where Ed presently... took care of the laundry.

Under Jay's mocking comments, he bent the clean, dry garbs, at a precise angle, following a specific degree depending on the nature of the clothing.

"I assure ya, Earth won't stop turning if one day you forget ta exactly line up pants."

"How would we know, since I _never_ forget anything?", the redhead countered with dignity, he replicated the movements on another of Bruce's trousers. "Not just a home for the Devil, _perfection_ is in the details as well."

"So resides a great share of yar weirdness, Ginger."

"Fair."

Jason threw pen caps at the nearest wall thanks to a homemade sling improvised with a pair of Bruce's socks. One projectile collided with the Bat when he entered.

"I'm a hunter!", the dark-haired boy gloated.

"In this context," Edward supplemented, "I tend to feel like the prey."

The brothers shared a complicit grin.

"... There's a Justice League meeting tomorrow.", Bruce began straightforwardly, a smile stretched on his lips at their funny interactions.

"So?", Eddie retorted, unimpressed. "What am I supposed to say, that I'm glad you maintain your threesomes with the alien farmer and Miss America?"

"What's a threesome?", Jason prompted innocently.

"What Batman experiments on a regular basis with Superman and Wonder Woman. Ask him, he's well placed to explain."

Bruce _stared._

"They are my _esteemed colleagues,_ we don't share anything outside _work._ ", he asserted curtly before Jay formulated the inquiry. "And did you honestly just... call Diana Prince, a _greek Amazon queen_ from _Themyscira,_ 'Miss America'?"

"I can't be the only one who noticed she sewed her leotard with a customized American flag.", Edward exposed very seriously, whilst bending the sleeves of one of Stephanie's shirts at the required 91 degrees before putting it on the neat, perfectly aligned pile reserved to her tops, then he reiterated the meticulous operation with a pullover of Jason's. "Wonder Woman attributed herself the icon. See? That's assimilation at its best: having non-natives who adopt the country's values, plus proudly claim the nationality via its symbols. If I were to enter politics, that's how I'd promote legal immigration."

Bruce's smile widened.

Over the past months, even though he didn't engage in missions with his colleagues from the League, he saw a few, like Superman, Wonder Woman or Flash a couple of times. He never invited them to Wayne Manor, and he never brought his Robins or Batgirl to the Watchtower or any meeting spots of the heroes'.

"Do you want to come with me?", he had recourse to his 'solemn' intonation. "Under the sole condition you... don't give nicknames to everyone. At least not out loud."

Ed didn't go for the bait:

"Are you proposing this as a method to apologize?"

"I have nothing to apologize for."

Edward and Jason shared a glance.

"... Thanks for the invitation, Bruce.", Eddie agreed eventually, his tone calm and composed while his glare shot daggers at the vigilante. "I _appreciate._ Naturally, I'd be happy to join."


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a bird, it's a plane... it's a Lantern!

"Don't you worry so much, Bats. I won't screw up.", Eddie laughed, nested in the passenger seat, his knuckles mechanically clapped a rhythm against the batwing-aka-why-hasn't-it-been-called-batplane's control board.

"I don't 'worry', I..."

Bruce cast him a quick side glance.

"You are an unpredictable data.", he enunciated, his stiff tone and stern expression making it hard to deduce what he thinks of this judgement, either positive or negative. "I can't foretell your line of conduct."

There is no portal to the Watchtower in Gotham, Batman's orders for precautions: if an extraterrestrial invasion targets the Tower one day, no way they'd benefit of a direct access to his town. Same goes for the 'what if' the League goes rogue, Bruce won't make way for an evil version of his current colleagues to arrive straight to Gotham. They must reach the nearest moderate urban agglomeration where resides a launching station.

"How are you going to introduce me?"

Edward may be the resentful type, he can't stay mad at Batman to the point he'd refuse to talk to him. After all, teasing Bruce is far more entertaining than blaming him.

"Will you say 'my Robin'?", he faked to be in deep thoughts over this. "Or something more personal, 'my best trusted ally'? 'My qualified, marvelous sidekick'? 'My great pride of a partner'? 'My incredibly intelligent and by all means stunning boy who..."

"Edward," the Bat sighed, "I won't 'introduce' you like at a... party or whatever. Gotham is one of the most mediatized towns in United States, most people outside our city hear of the main events there. You had victories, you appeared in enough articles and reportings for everyone to know about you, so even more in the heroes sphere. Besides if I was asked, I would simply say you are Robin.", he concluded. "There's no need to coat your title in praises, you are my chosen sidekick, this reality is powerful enough in itself for _everyone_ to look up to you and respect you."

Edward smiled, he eyed his eldest with a certain... tenderness.

"I like it when we fight."

"Do you?"

"Yup. Because it's always easier _after,_ for me to realize how much I love being part of your world."

Batman smiled as well, the mood definitely lighted.

"I'll tell you when we're back home.", he appended later. "I'll show you why I can't close my eyes on you letting people die during schemes you handle alone."

"I didn't 'let' that moron die, I..."

"I know. I _know_ you've done your best, Ed. But I am not blind, I see how you behave, how you determine your priorities, what you think of people. I know you."

"Do you?", Edward mirrored the question, a tab aggressive.

Their white eyes met when they shared a glance, the Bat confirmed his assumption:

"I know enough to be worried."

This time Eddie frowned.

"Why would you be 'worried'? There's nothing to 'worry about' in me! What are you trying to..."

"My exclusive experience of vigilantes in Gotham aside from me is Dick and Barbara," he interrupted before the teenager developed his outraged feeling, "and only one of those two has been trained under my mentorship."

Edward crossed his arms on his chest.

"Fine," he grumbled, "I am not Richard Grayson. I won't ever be capable to perform the quarter of his acrobatics, I can hold myself in a fight but I _won't become_ a ninja like the rest of your allies, I am not as strong, not as enduring, not a good team player, I wouldn't lead these... Teen Titans or any stupid group of that kind, unlike your son who seems to enjoy playing baby boss for braindead half-alien half-mutant monkeys. Good for him! That's _not my cup of tea,_ I am not him, I _won't be_ and I am _not trying to be,_ so I would appreciate you _stop_ comparing us every time I do or say anything! That I am not like your first Robin doesn't mean I can't..."

"It was not a reproach.", Batman assured in a calm tone of voice. "Quite the contrary, actually."

Eddie raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"So why do you...?"

"I wished you and Dick had at least a _few_ common features, that would have made my role of mentor more achievable and our... partnership, less explosive."

"Quit beating around the bush: what is it you are 'worried' about?"

Edward expected a lie or an irrelevant response, anyway a manner for the Bat not to clear his thoughts. So Bruce's sincere, a hint _defeatist_ answer stumped him:

"The fact you are like me."

"... I take it as a compliment.", he teased nevertheless, in order to brush off his surprise.

"It wasn't. I would have preferred you were closer to Dick, Babs or Jim Gordon, instead of thinking like Batman. He is not a reliable model."

"It never fails to amuse me when I listen to you speaking of yourself using the third person. You sound _so_ schizophrenic whenever you do that."

They both smiled, appeased, although they _weren't done wondering_ about the issue Bruce formulated.

"If I am like you, does it mean I'd be apt to rule the Justice League one day?"

"No you won't. I am not the type of men who would accept to retire, I'll be Batman until someone rips the costume off my cold dead body. And that person would better make sure I don't come back, because the day I do, I won't let them hang out wearing my name and taking up my place in the League."

"I don't doubt you'll find a way to become immortal.", Eddie laughed at his _very_ foreseeable repartee. "Keep in mind that if you do, then so will I."

"Naturally."

They shared another smile.

They were almost at destination by now.

__________

"I feel a tiny bit left behind.", Jason pouted. "I know it's bratty of me ta say dat, but... this whole Dynamic Duo thing takes too much of Eddie's time lately. Too much investment. He's always thinkin' 'bout his cases, people ta visit to collect clues, how to perfection gadgets or watchin' video footages'n readin' files on the villains or of previous investigations. It's... time-consuming."

Stephanie wriggled her fingers, distressed.

"I feel the same.", she confided nervously. "Is that... wrong, that we cannot just be happy he found a nearly-healthy activity? I mean... it's not like he suddenly forgot about the rest, he always saves time depending on _our_ schedule before caring for Bruce's."

The siblings pondered over this today in each their class, knowing their big brother will spend the afternoon at the Watchtower. They shared their thoughts with Alfred over snack, at the end of their school day.

The butler positioned a new bouquet of daffodils on the low table of the living room they settled at. Unless his instinct impelled him to distrust these arrivals, he won't consider those worrisome material. This morning he anticipated: he caught the mailman, hours before dawn. The young woman who delivered the bouquet hasn't been able to tell him anything about its sender. When Alfred insisted, she revealed she received an extra payment to convey the flowers early enough to be sure the inhabitants of the manor slept. She doesn't know who is at their origin, she plainly filled her contract, pleased to gain an additional paycheck.

Presently, the yellow flowers look gorgeous in an ancient blue vase, the butler won't throw them out just because he begins to assume this fan is _a little insistent,_ he'd rather enjoy the elegant embellishment.

"I don't like not havin' it in common.", Jason rounded off after they exposed their uncertainty to Alfred. "I woul' love ta live the experience! Even with trainin' and all, I... feel excluded from dat world, while it's becoming so important to Ed."

"We should share it! Instead of having a different relation to this way of life."

The two nodded simultaneously, as to reinforce their arguments.

Alfred offered them a small smile. They were right, he shared their opinion. Still, he will wait a bit before proposing to make them matching vigilante attires.

"Plus I wanted ta meet da Justice League!", Jaybird supplemented after another bite of homebaked cupcake. "Eddie's so lucky."

"Don't believe he'll get to visit the headquarters.", Alfred rejected alongside a sigh. "Knowing him, I don't think Bruce went through with it."

"What does it mean?"

"It means, Miss Stephanie, that he most likely brought Edward to the portal but won't let him enter the meeting room. Perhaps he won't even allow him to see the Tower. I'm almost certain he found a gimmick to _bring him there_ yet _not let him in._ "

As ever the perspicacious oracle he is, Alfred guessed accurately: that's _exactly_ what Batman did.

"You can't possibly be serious.", Edward cringed, baffled.

"I can and I am.", Bruce affirmed, unmoved by the teen's vexation. "Arguing is pointless, I won't come back on this decision."

Edward was furious, he deemed his ire legitimate.

They stood in a large space in what is, from the outside, an ordinary-looking building. Once inside, the main room looks like the Magic Ministry's hall: expensive elements, marble decorations, technological items... Who finances this ostentarious bullshit?, Edward wondered. The President? The Senate? The NASA? The scientific departments like in Area 51? Or perhaps it's from a private society. He looked into Wayne Enterprises' costs, Bruce pays integrally his Batman equipment, but he doesn't bankroll the League's expenses, their funds come from another or multiple sources.

Right now, Edward focused on his _frustration,_ not on a study over the main heroes of America's finance _._ Bruce wants him to stay here whilst he'll lead the meeting in the Tower. In a way, to Eddie this is worse than not getting invited at all: at least Grayson and Babs have never been asked to wait in the hall, like an... unwanted guest you don't know what to do with at a reception.

"I feel humiliated.", he said through gritted teeth. "What else do you want me to do while you're away, clean up the batwing? Check your equipment? Be your little desperate housewife who's barely good at filling low-importance tasks while you have fun with your colleagues, and I stay there longing for your return?!"

Bruce's cowl and the exposed part of his face didn't give away any emotion in regards to what Edward pointed out. Is it Ed's imagination, or does the Bat seem more... menacing, emotionally distant, here, at a place where he could meet other heroes? As if his 'leader of the League' label is _another mask_ he adds to the ones he already wears.

"I don't refer to Robin as anything but a crime-fighting partner.", he amended that 'desperate housewife' designation. "If your presence is required in the Watchtower, I'll let you know. For now it isn't, you're free to explore the hall if that amuses you."

"... It's not even the Hall of Justice.", Eddie clenched his fists, unwilling to abandon the fight too soon, whereas he understood Batman won't change his mind. "This is a second-rate place you use as a portal, I most likely won't meet anyone there! So what, I'll... take a chair and wait, as if I was your four-year-old you punished by making him sit in a corner?! How did you presume I'd react to being treated like a... piece of _furniture_ you can put where you want?! You'd..."

He would have accused the Bat further, anger and self-abasement over the situation boiling inside him, if someone else didn't show up in the main room. Dressed in green, a bow and arrows secured on his back, a recognizeable pair of blond mustache and goatee.

"Batman," Oliver Queen granted him a friendly nod, "... and Robin! Nice to meet you kiddo, I'm..."

"Oh, _great._ ", Edward scoffed. "I know who you are. I would reply the pleasure is shared, but that would be a lie considering you are, by far, my _least favorite_ Justice League member."

Green Arrow appeared confused. Ed conceded he _could_ make an effort. Be that as it may, Bruce's humiliating verdict and the fact they were in the middle of a dispute when that goon walked in somehow increased his wrath. Moreover, he... instinctively _doesn't like_ the other adult, albeit he is not sure why. He needed an innocent victim bashing: congrats Ollie, you inherited of the role.

"Really?", the archer blinked, unsure. "Hu... no problem, I'll help you change your mind about me! See, I am a..."

"Don't waste your breath.", Eddie discarded. "Nothing personal, not against _you,_ it's against your... everything. It's kind of a gut feeling: I can't stand you. Not your fault, it must run deeper than just you and me.", he spoofed a spiritual prediction. "Too much of a bad karma between us."

"... Okay?", the green-cladded hero seeked for support from Batman. "Did you..."

"Not to remind," Ed wasn't done indicting the poor guy, "you are the most insignificant League member."

"Robin.", Bruce disapproved.

"What? You think the same, that's... literally _written down_ in your Green Arrow file: 'negligible capacities'."

Oliver addressed the Bat a puzzled gaze.

"Leave it be.", Bruce commanded prior receiving reproaches from the blond man. "Even if I value your skills as a fighter, you can't deny your talent is based on... a bow and arrows. Furthermore you didn't even come up with an original costume, you took your aesthetic from Robin Hood."

"Not to add, your goatee is hideous."

"... Well this has been enlightening."

__________

As he expected, nothing happened. Edward fulminated, too angry to be curious and snoop around in the building; it's not like he'd find anything captivating in this station. He was about to go back to the batwing when one of the portals activated. He glared at the capsule. Too early for Bruce to return, but he had nothing against restating some Green Arrow bashing.

It's effectively _something green_ that emerged, only... much more good-looking than the archer.

Bruce keeps files on each League members and on independent American heroes alike, needless to say Edward read everything the Dark Knight stored in his database to be abreast of breaking news in the vigilantes area.

This dude belongs to the category Bruce doesn't like: impetuous, rumored to be unable to follow orders, has a _very personal_ interpretation of his powers' purpose and how to use them. As far as Ed was aware, whereas Batman and this human Green Lantern haven't met before today, Bruce gathered bunch of informations and heard Stewart and Gardner's complaints about the newbie who is, according to them, a _little storm_ from the day he has been chosen by a ring this summer.

The batcomputer also specifies names (so far, there isn't a League member Bruce hasn't discovered the secret identity of...), a few characteristics, and in this case the reason why Batman and him haven't crossed paths yet: since he joined the Green Lantern Corps during July, twenty years old Harold 'Hal' Jordan hasn't returned to Earth, he stayed in Space to experiment his abilities and, apparently, cause a fair share of _disasters_ when trying to solve problems he often contributed to create.

"What is that lonely little Robin doing here?", the newcomer greeted immediately.

Edward decided he doesn't like this young man's smug peacock aura.

"Shouldn't that spandex-covered green bean be at a meeting?", he retorted in the same tone.

"Should have been!", the guy spread his arms as to imitate a theatre actor from a classical tragedy who expresses how despondent he is after a grim twist of fate. "And I was... If it wasn't for your bat-daddy who doesn't like me: he compelled me to leave to let grown-ups do the talking! So okay, I _know_ I arrived late to the meeting, and that it looked totally out of place to inquire with those serious-like-graves folks if we were gonna have lunch together after the reunion. Asking this, I sorta _interrupted_ what the Martian was saying, which was probably 'super important'. Everything they do or say is supposedly 'super', y'know. That group of killjoys treated me like I was the strangest of the room! What made me a bit uncomfortable. Consequently, I told a joke. To light up the mood, y'know. Except said joke was considered 'keenly racist and nasty', that's how that large douche of Cyborg qualified it after sort of a _blank_ silence because nobody was talking anymore and everyone looked at me like I had grown two heads!"

Not pausing in his narration, plus doing wild gestures all the while talking, as if he reported an exhilarating adventure, Jordan went on:

"Usually I appreciate being ogled, I am aware I'm handsome. But there it made me feel reeeeeeally awkward. So I drank a gulp of water, y'know, to calm down. I _chocked on it,_ Power Girl had to slap on my back twice for me to breath again. She is hot and she saved me, so I started flirting, what must have felt bizarre for her: she is something like ten years older than me. I asked her in front of everyone if she has a boyfriend, she addressed me a gunshot glare and answered she is a lesbian. So I said 'fine by me, I love you as you are', that would have been rude of me to refuse a one-night stand with someone just because of their sexual orientation. I tried to be nice there; given the others' face I acted 'offensive'. I don't know why. To soothe the tension, I proposed we organize a party, for us to meet in a less gloomy ambiance than this meeting. Yes, I actually used the term 'gloomy', what Batman seemed to take upon himself. I understand why: with his spooky outfit, every time someone says 'scary' or 'creepy', he probably thinks they are speaking about him behind his back."

Next thing Hal tried to bat-glare, what gave birth to an... uncanny result.

"The big guy did his demon-like eye thing, he gave me one of his famous bat-glares. He pointed to the door, which I had... left open. I was late and I didn't close the door behind me, I realize only now that it must have exacerbated an unfavorable first impression. All of this to say, Batman pronounced one word: 'OUT', and that gave me the _chills,_ he talks like a freakin' Terminator! To end my outstanding meeting with the League, I made the finger guns at Wonder Woman and Superman, cuz I thought 'why not', and I exited the room doing the moonwalk. Moonwalk is classy and so am I, I wanted to share more of my handsomeness. Sadly I somehow miscalculated the trajectory: my back bumped against the doorframe. Nothing to worry about, I reassure you."

He included there a three seconds-long pause to draw an attempt at a dramatic effect, afterwards he resumed:

"Last sight I caught was my two fellow Green Lanterns, who both kinda hate me by the way, to them I am, I quote, 'too much of a cataclysm, not even metaphorically speaking'. They facepalmed and pretended not to know me instead of supporting me. Once in the corridor, I screamed 'yeaaaaaah, I think that well!', the League heard that because I _just passed the door,_ which I didn't close back, when I yelled my victory. Then I reached one of the portal rooms, I wanted to go back to Earth this season, y'know, to enjoy Christmas'n stuff at home-sweet-planet-home. I thought I'd visit a bit, too, and cuz I have bats on the brain, I took the portal closest to Gotham. And now... here we are.", he concluded as he slumped on the comfy chair next to Robin.

Edward couldn't decipher _when_ the first chuckle escaped from his lips during this frenzied tale; by the end of it nonetheless, he was laughing wholeheartedly.

"Oh my," he commented, tears of laughter pricking in his eyes behind his domino mask, "Batman wasn't wrong when he qualified you of 'calamity'. I thought that was a hasty judgement since you two hadn't met yet, but in truth you are even _worse_ than that."

"My middle name is 'Captain disaster'. My mom called me that when I was four, and nothing changed since then."

They both giggled.

"Doesn't change a thing to the fact _Batman_ sent me away during my first Justice League meeting.", Hal rehashed when they calmed down. "Your dad's a dick, you know that?"

"He is not my dad.", Eddie declined quietly, however he didn't deny the second part of Hal's sentence. "And as you can see, I am not at this meeting either. I'll tell you why: in Gotham, Bats said I could come with him at a League meeting. Yet once we arrived, he asked me to _stay here_ and forbid me from having access to the Watchtower."

"Wow. Rude."

"You don't say."

They shared a nod of mutual understanding, in some parody of an... unspoken contract that floated in the air between them.

"I want to do something.", Ed decided accordingly.

"Me too!"

"Just so you know: I am _not_ a catastrophe. The opposite, I'm an incredibly charming individual. Everybody loves me, must be why Bats didn't want me up there: I would have totally stolen the show. Even if... given your striking entrance, all eyes would have been on _you_ regardless."

"I am just that good."

They chuckled some more.

"Let's go out!", Hal invited, jumping to his feet like he had springs in the short heels embedded in his bodysuit. "I wanna have fun, I never traveled to this State before, I'm sure there is bunch of cool stuff to do here."

He leered at Edward's attire.

"Fun equals games in the air for me. Do you fly?"

"Nope.", Eddie shook his head no. "I carry a grapple hook because it matches with the costume's fashion, but the few times I used it ended... a disaster, though nothing comparable to what you are. I'm not playing acrobat across town."

The Lantern's domino mask is thicker and covers a larger portion of face than Ed's does, it runs across the upper side of the nose, looking like a pointy beak on Hal's face, whilst Robin's mask solely circles his eyes and eyebrows, the black fabric's junction point is thin and located higher, between the eyes, in place of including the nose in its shape. One similar characteristic nevertheless, is that Hal's mask curved funnily as he arched an eyebrow under it.

"You're a Robin who doesn't know how to fly?"

"You are a former freshly-promoted pilot from the Airforce who dresses in an extraterrestrial version of a green spandex, you wear a magic ring that doesn't even serve to rule them all, to find them, to bring them all and in the darkness bind them. I am not the weirder of the two. Also, _yes,_ I know who you are under that alien stripper garb."

"If you say so.", the brown-haired boy hummed. "Still..."

Aside from his comical showman personality, his smirk has a... suave side, Ed must say.

"I am an _upgraded_ pilot since now, I fly without an engine. While you are a bird who doesn't. But don't worry, little ball of feathers. Lots of birds don't fly. Like... chickens."

"... I swear, if you dare to call me 'chicken', I'll make you regret you came back to Earth, you intergalactic dumbass!", Edward hissed and Hal bursted out laughing.

"I can pick another unable-to-fly birdie if you prefer! What would you say about... ostrich? Oh no wait, I found it! Dodo bird!"

Hal guffawed, he materialized a green shield around him when Eddie fired of his phaser gun. The shield sucked Robin's ultrasound impulse in.

After a single shot, Ed realized how ridiculous it is to fight, here against that man. He put back his Star Trek-inspired non-lethal weapon in the pouch at his left, a matching holder on his right securing his second firearm he called a 'phaser' too, smaller and sending as for it microships with effects akin to a taser's once it collides with a living creature.

"Feeling better?"

"Not in the slightest."

Hal smiled.

"Let me make it up to you, then. How about I take you out for a drink?"

"I don't drink."

"It doesn't have to be alcohol. Worry not cutie, we can live it up without getting drunk."

The white eyes of Edward's mask narrowed in a very Batman-like-only-on-him-that-looks-adorable glare.

"All things considered, me hanging out with _you_ is what can exasperate Batman the most, so... I'm in."

"I love your way of thinking."

They exited the large room; Green Lantern extended a hand toward him once they stepped outside.

"There must be a Christmas market somewhere, let's go there.", Hal happily found a mission to fulfill. "It will be easier to spot it if we take an overview."

"Don't drop me.", Edward warned severely.

"I won't."

Hal winked at him... what looked super weird with his mask. A rookie mistake, Eddie did so at first too, before he acknowledged winking is _partly_ discernible on a domino mask, making his whole face look... odd.

Edward smiled.

"To enrage Batman."

"And the other Lanterns."

They shared an approving movement of the head then added simultaneously:

"And the League."

They laughed together.

"I like you, birdie-boy. Something tells me you and I will get along for mischief and bad decisions."

"I take up the challenge."

Edward's smile widened when Hal easily scooped him up (does the ring increase its owner's strength, even slightly? And if so, does it also optimize other senses? It would be interesting to make researches in this field). The Lantern grinned in return.

"Don't smile like that," Eddie jested, "you look like an idiot."

"If so, then remember I am a _lovely_ idiot, you cute ginger chick."

They laughed some more as Hal left the ground, with Robin in his arms he carried bridal style.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Hal is supposed to be the first Green Lantern of Earth, but because playing fast and loose with DC canons –gotta love fanfictions for that ^^– : in this Universe, at present John Stewart and Guy Gardner are already Lanterns for years, thus *they* belong to the founders of the Justice League with the other main heroes, in place of dear mister Jordan.  
> For the rest Hal's backstory is pretty much the same except he's, therefore, younger. And he remains always so stubborn, that doesn't change ;)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A foot in the Christmas ambiance already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reply "It was over all a dick move and Dick isn’t even involved!" made in Sigmatimelord has been reused during this chapter ;)

"Is Green Lantern coming to Gotham?", Stephanie inquired.

"Unfortunately, that's what he planned.", Edward sighed, although not gonna lie, the prospect amused him too. "He'll likely stop by over the incoming days."

"Ya gave him yar number?"

Eddie shook his head. How to interpret their enthusiasm about him saying he went to the Christmas market of the nearest agglomeration with the youngest human Green Lantern...? The three of them currently sat in a cozy living room in front of the lighted, ancient fireplace. Bruce disappeared in the Batcave the second they came back from their 'meeting'.

Batman had been incredibly angry when Ed showed up: Robin kept him _waiting_ a full hour post-reunion. He didn't apologize for that, on the contrary he arrived with his smug expression on and reported he was having fun with a Lantern. _This_ Lantern, Hal gave him the flight back to the building possessing a portal to the Watchtower.

" _Who_ gave you the permission to leave?", the vigilante had blamed right away when seeing the two.

"Geez.", Hal Jordan preceded Edward's reply. "You _really_ are a Terminator."

"You. _Out of my view._ "

The boys shared a quick glance, thereafter Eddie nodded and concluded:

"See you if you pass by."

They already established Hal will visit Gotham soon; the Lantern _winked_ again despite the sight remaining funny and a tab ridiculous with his pointy beak-like mask. When he took off, Ed focused on his mentor, ire not cooled off after, let's call it for what it is: his _dick move._ And Dick wasn't even involved!

"Got an explanation as for why you treated me like a piece of furniture you can _remove_ and _leave_ wherever you want without it having its word to say?"

"And do _you_ have an explanation as for why you abandoned your position, soldier?!"

That was the _wrong_ word to use.

Edward glared at him, from frustrated his expression slid to unreadable, distant. A cut above plain rage, he was too angry to scream, he _whispered_ in a cold, merciless tone:

"I am _not_ a soldier. And certainly not _yours._ "

Frankly speaking, Edward expected he'll have to find another vehicle to go home. At this distance, it's probable some bus lines do the trip to Gotham; he should hurry to catch one given the hour, the end of afternoon making way to the evening.

This eventuality didn't arise in Batman's brain though, they ended up together inside the batwing in a heavy atmosphere in which none considered they should be the one who talks first. The opposite of the Dark Knight on this point, Ed nurtures a far more _tensed_ relation to quietness: he hates it when nobody says anything, he is one to forever fill the gaps with his constant babbling / bragging over different topics.

Now however... he has no desire to offer Bruce an easy way out just because he doesn't like silence.

"... I would have activated the portal for you at one condition.", Bruce confessed when they almost arrived at destination.

There again, Eddie won't give him the satisfaction to relaunch him, Batman had to complete _by himself_ like a big boy:

"It depended on how critical the situation is, what I couldn't anticipate. Martian Manhunter alerted us about a terrorist attack targeting the executives of his world, he needs help to clear Earth from suspicions. The firearms used against the building reserved for the Martian High Council are of an American manufacture. While there are not enough Martians left for them to brave direct attacks, they produce advanced weapons and _could reckon_ they recovered from their previous status of 'endangered specie'. They could retaliate. Whoever did this knew how to provoke a war: by using trademark firearms from the main country of Earth. Extraterrestrials wouldn't disembark at... Madagascar, but in a town of _United States._ If we consider it's a political matter, Washington should be notified."

"... None of that justifies why I couldn't join. You realize I am a _better_ detective than you, I can be very useful to find those people and clear up why they pretend to be humans from Earth! Or, if they are, to find out why they attacked _Mars_ and _how_ did they win a ticket to reach the planet?!"

"The case is confidential.", Batman answered, laconic. "I was not informed of the details before this afternoon, consequently I couldn't predict how terrible the images will be and how many innocents died. I didn't want to shock you by showing a massive attack, I needed to make sure it was viewable for a teenager who never suffered visions from a battlefield."

Okay, Edward admitted he... didn't think of it like that.

"Then why didn't you _tell me?_ ", he interrogated, confused. "You could have warned me the pictures might be 18+, I would have told you whether I take the risk to watch them or not. And if you deemed I can’t see them at all, you could have _briefed me_ on the fact you would have invited me subsequently, _after_ you made yourself an idea of how bad the whole deal was. I didn't even know what this meeting was for, how could I have guessed you acted like a jerk to 'protect' me?!"

"My decisions. My responsibilities. _My_ job now, to prevent a diplomatic incident and arrest a group, of humans or martians, or both, who try to start a war."

"... Just remember I can help.", Robin proposed a peace offering. "That you are not alone in this or in anything else, and that I am _not_ too young to see or hear a few things. So... do not hesitate, I'd like to take a look at this file and lead my own investigation."

Bruce hummed, Edward knew it's the maximum of acknowledgment he'll receive.

Whereas angry at him for his lack of communication and his quite _rude_ methods, he granted the Bat wanted to... preserve him, in a way. He _could_ command his ego not to feel bruised by what happened, conditionally upon next time, Batman _tells him_ what he forecasts instead of leaving him in the dark not understanding his moves.

They didn't linger. Bruce parked the batwing, he grumbled he has work to do and that he won't show up this evening. Robin didn't insist, he left that grumpy bat in his cave and reached the elevator.

He specified to Steph and Jay he hadn't met the League, Bruce didn't want him to take part of a reunion starring too violent themes. They were a bit disappointed, albeit they added Alfred _predicted_ a corresponding denouement. Edward wasn't even surprised, he'd bet the Bat-butler reads people's minds.

Today being Thursday, the kids have school tomorrow, they won't stay up late. They enjoyed the warmth and beauty of the flames dancing in the fireplace, whilst his siblings were sincerely interested by this encounter with the Green Lantern with whom he went to a Christmas market.

"I gave him a communicator in case he wants to let me know when he comes by.", Edward dithered when Jason asked if he gave Hal his phone number. "No 'number', he isn't supposed to know who I am under the domino mask."

The two mischievous little birds shared a glance.

"Dat's super cool.", Jay voiced out loud what they both deduced. "You've got a hero buddy now! Can we meet him?"

"No you can't. He _doesn't know_ about Bruce's civilian identity either, same goes for you."

"If we had superheroes costumes," Steph pinpointed a solution, "we could meet everyone and go out in the city at night. Not necessarily to stop crime, just to have fun."

"I am not getting down that debate."

They laughed together.

"You know what else would be cool?", Stephie reflectioned. "That you become the leader of your own team!"

"... I am not sure Jordan is the 'team player' type."

"Neither are ya, technically. Yet you keep makin' friends."

"True point."

They chatted lightly in front of the fire. Later on Edward put them to bed, not knowing Stephanie was firmly planning to _recruit,_ hire Alfred to assist her to make the insight come true and give uniforms to the persons who could be part of this 'team'. Starting, naturally, by Jason and herself.

__________

"I hate Christmas.", Poison Ivy rendered her verdict as if she evoked the worst disaster or abomination the world ever heard of.

Jonathan smiled. It's this time of the year again...

"Tell me that for _once,_ you won't organize an attack against Christmas tree producers."

Pamela muttered, attesting that this is _exactly_ what she has in mind. Albeit previsible (she does that every December since her villain coming out...), she had no intention to skip this usual revendication of hers before the celebrations.

Scarecrow and Ivy were in her greenhouse, a place they commonly meet at to elaborate over science, would this be for schemes, simple experiments or in the process of sharing concepts to build up a reasoning together, the doctors being equally intelligent and skillful when it comes to create, for example, _toxins._

"If your heist gets thwarted next week, perhaps you can still escape Arkham on time to make it out for Christmas."

"What a bonus.", she jeered, not even pretending she envisaged the option. "I prefer staying behind these blotchy walls rather than assisting to this disgustingly honeyed celebration full of sweetness and good sentiments during which families reunite around the corpse of a fir snarled in flashy tinsels to give each other so-called 'presents' that are in truth reciprocity clauses to enforce domination from the person who squandered the most for a gift versus the one who didn't waste as many dollars and who is, therefore, liable according to social codes."

She uttered her tirade in a rapid, aghast tone that is, honestly, _hilarious_ to listen.

"Thank you for your relentless determination to ruin Christmas _every single year,_ Pammy dear.", he ironised. "Where would the magic go if it wasn't for your charming behavorial analysis of this period?"

Pam growled like a wolf. Jonathan's smile increased.

"What about you?", she accused in return. "No scheme?!"

"Actually, none.", he responded in full transparency. "I don't aspire to renew a visit in the asylum this month, I'll wait next year to resume the service."

Pamela's dark green eyes narrowed.

"Does it have to do with your new pet?"

Jon mirrored her harsh gaze, he pushed up his square glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"I don't see what you are referring to."

Ivy's predatory smirk answered as well as if she formulated an explanatory speech. Officially she doesn't 'know', Jonathan never shared hints of his private life with her. Be that as it may, she was not _blind._ She thought he would lose interest in his 'summer raving', as she renamed his indeniable interest for, presumably, a human being. She assumed it would be no more than a phase, not that it would evolve into something more... what, serious? Is this word adapted?

"They won't spend Christmas with you.", she warned nevertheless.

On one hand, she believed Jon is an idiot for caring for someone. On the other hand, he is the closest she ever had to a friend, she felt... concerned, enough to _get after that person_ if they ever hurt him.

"Nothing of what I do in my free time is your business, Pamela."

"They won't even _think_ about you when they'll enjoy that celebration with the 'circle' of their family and friends... a circle you _don't belong to,_ because whatever they promised you, you cannot mean anything to them, you are _not_ a part of their life."

Jonathan removed his latex lab gloves.

"We're done for today.", he wrapped up, their experiment on a mutated holly barely advanced from how it was when they began working on the poor thing.

Ivy shrugged, unwilling to let him suspect she worried, even slightly.

"Do as you want. I just think you're being dumb there, _Jonny._ "

It would be irrelevant to protest. Perhaps a small portion of him is dumb, yes. That would explain a lot... although not why he accepted Edward's request to have their own celebration, not the 24 or 25 of December since he'll be with his kids those days, but prior these dates, like a... peculiar Christmas in advance they'll prepare next week.

"I love Christmas!", Steph chanted happily.

"Who doesn't?", Jenna winked at her, the four of them sported wide, bright smiles on their faces.

Edward, Stephanie and Jason met Jenna Duffy at the Christmas market this Saturday afternoon. During the morning, they executed the indispensable step of taking back home a cut Christmas tree with Alfred.

"It looks so badass!", Jason had claimed when they settled a moderate-heighted fir in their favorite living room, the one they used most often.

They will trim it at the end of the afternoon, post spending said afternoon at the Gotham Christmas market.

"Enjoy your time between kids.", Alfred had declined when they suggested he'd stroll with them. "I'll join at the end of your afternoon."

Thus the four of them wandered in the nice ambiance, walking around the colorful chalets. Everything in Gotham is _overexaggerated,_ the Christmas market fits this definition: it is literally giant, it fills the entire space of the main plazas in town. The animations are comparable to a winter-themed fair.

"Come iiiiiin!", Steph grabbed Edward's hand, she indicated another activity they must try.

They always have a great time at the market.

Some would call it the 'softie' side, others will find that cute: Edward takes _pictures_ of typical moments or occasions like Christmas. He collects photos of Stephanie during festivities every year since her birth. He will augment this collection, a task much easier to fulfill now that Bruce offered him a smartphone a few weeks ago, he can take photos thanks to the device without buying disposable cameras.

By the way, he hadn't thrown his tamagotchi-looking phone, for it remains impossible to track and therefore, reserved for messages and calls with Jonathan.

Oh and, another positive element about this year: the answer is "yes" to everything, they don't worry over, or even _count_ the money they outlay. It truly has its material benefits, to live at a billionaire's.

"Let's try one o' these."

Following Jason's directive, they tasted Alsatian hot pretzels.

Going back to the market, they will try the dinners proposed there when visiting during the evenings.

"Ya haven't decorated your house?"

Jenna shook her head no.

"My family is... not into the whole celebration anymore, now that my brothers and I are no longer 'children'. While we take out the cardboard of tinsels and Christmas baubles, it will be the fourth year since we last hosted a Christmas tree for December. Doesn't change the traditions: we listen to heartwarming songs, share presents, drink hot wine and eat special meals plus more chocolate this month than at any other moment of the year... except maybe for the Easter holidays, which would be a close second in matter of chocolate consuming."

Then the teenage girl remembered she speaks to six and ten years-old _kiddos._ She should have verified a central winter tenet with Ed before making a regrettable mistake.

"Jason and I don't believe in Santa Claus, don't worry.", Steph giggled upon perceiving her sudden hesitation, she had no trouble making sense out of her unease. "But hush, let's not say that too loud or we'd vex the cosplayers over here."

They chuckled... and indeed, took a couple of cliché-yet-lovely pictures with one of the men who wore a hat and a cotton curly beard, dressed in the Coca Cola red and white colors attributed to Santa.

Edward will never grow tired of praising the consumer society.

They bought stereotypical items to decorate the Manor (even though Alfred assured they have a _dozen_ boxes of Christmas stuff at home...), tried various snacks and walked through the alleys of chalets selling santon dolls, cribs and Christmas decorations; but also jewels of any type made with a large range of materials, wooden objects, stuffed toys, glass creations, plants, flowers, pillows, baby carriers and other baby-aimed garments or equipments, illustrated tales, snowglobes, mugs, leather articles, knives, winter clothes including some for pets, instruments, music boxes, board games, stylish notebooks, gemstones... All of this next to the chalets selling foods coming from multiple places across the world.

Plus, because this is Gotham: a great big bunch of derived products inspired from the heroes or the Rogues Gallery, mainly from local villains and vigilantes, complemented by sparse figurines and articles portraying Justice League members. Eddie wondered how Jon would react if he brought at their apartment the... Scarecrow rag doll, unmistakably designed following Crane's costume, one of the chalets sold amongst other stuffed toys, including the trio Batman-Robin-Batgirl.

His chest puffed up with pride when they spotted items featuring a ginger mid-long haired Robin with _his_ version of the costume: no panty, rather skintight green pants, black boots, adapted green gloves, a yellow cape a little longer than the first one's that emphasized his red tunic, and firearms on his sides.

"You are... not buying that, are you?", Eddie sent his fellow teenager a 'disappointed-in-you' cat gaze.

He may feel proud dolls in his effigy have been created, he didn't project to _own_ one.

"I _am_ buying that. Two of them actually.", Jenna laughed, supported by the younger ones when she spoke with the saleswoman at one of the chalet-shops selling plush dolls.

Edward's pride reinforced when Jenna hugged her little plush ginger Robin, and Stephanie cautiously placed hers in her bag.

"We're taking plush Robin home!"

They really had a great time.

In order to avoid questions from his siblings and friend about the intended recipient, Edward dismissed the idea to buy anything for Jonathan. This being said, he _will_ come back to the market and get one of these Scarecrow rag dolls, to make fun of his good doctor in a sympathetic way. Today is not a 'hunt for Christmas gifts' mood though, they simply buy a few objects they appreciate when seeing them.

It feels awesome to have zero budget moderation.

"We have to do that again!", Stephie decided firmly when Alfred picked them up.

They showed the butler their favorite chalets, Jason and Steph being eager to introduce him to interesting stuff.

"We will.", Edward pledged. "The market isn't going anywhere, we can come back regularly till the end of December."

"Cool!", Jason validated. "Ya'll be comin' back too?"

"Sure thing!", Jenna approved. "I _love_ hanging out with my Losers Club."

What made them all laugh some more.

Bruce wasn't there this evening at the Manor, he didn't witness the adventures of decorating the fir. In fact, he left with the Justice League for a trip to Mars, for what may turn out to be a days-long mission.

"I let Gotham between yours hands.", he had solemnly declared to Alfred, Edward, Stephanie, Jason and Barbara yesterday, he reunited them to briefly expose the complications he must handle with the other main League members.

His teammates could have felt touched he showed faith in them, if it wasn't for his conclusion, a deadpan:

"Do not disappoint me."

"Congrats, master Bruce.", Alfred judged with his customary British phlegm. "You always find the most rightful and delicate manner to put an end to a conversation."

At present, they contemplated the decorated Christmas tree, satisfied with their artwork.

"It looks dashing.", Jason boasted.

"It does.", his brother nodded.

"Still, with everything we have, it _will_ change of aspect practically every day from now to Christmas.", Stephanie clarified what they thought internally.

"Sounds like a fine objective.", Alfred smiled.

The butler retrieved many boxes of decorations from the attic, the three children can have fun changing the fir and rooms of style as often as they wish. When they asked why such a considerable amount of Christmas items, Alfred stayed evasive, he simply mentioned it's a result of the receptions hosted most December months in the hall, which needs to be decorated in accordance with the traditions.

And that it's also due to them being fond of the Christmas period. He didn't say Thomas and Martha _enjoyed_ the celebration beyond compare, and that after their deaths, Bruce hadn't decorated a single Christmas tree... until their first Christmas with Dick. Their adopted son resurrected a magic long lost in their home; this year, those kids will keep the wonderful dynamic alive in their own refreshing way. Alfred couldn't be happier.

He loved this season.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A family matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Precautionary warning for semi-graphic violence in this chapter.  
> And... sorry for the wait, I promise, next update will be more rapid! To compensate for now, I offer you a chapter longer than the previous ones' format. ^^

They laughed in the spacious gymnasium, engaged in a raging game of handball (Ed may dislike these sports, he always participates when his kids request a teamed-up activity... and enjoys himself, he must confess) when Alfred barged in.

"We're busy, ol' man!", Jason prevented the butler's interruption. "Come back later!"

"... I'm afraid this cannot wait."

"It's alright, Jay.", Edward smiled then stepped aside from the current hysterical pastime. "You were winning, anyway."

"Dat's precisely why I want ta go on!"

Steph and him initiated a friendly bickering over who would have been most likely to win if their game went on.

Edward cut their discussion by a question after he saw Alfred brought a present with written ' **For Batman** ' in bold script on top of the yellow gift wrapping.

"What is this?"

"Nothing that risks to explode, I scanned it prior bringing it here."

"So cute!", Stephanie smirked. "Baddies send Bruce Christmas presents in advance!"

"Let's unwrap!", Ed grinned as well. "To attest how 'cute' it might be."

Instinctively, the three of them settled on the floor of the gym, they put the box in the middle of their improvised circle. Alfred concurred to do the same, he sat between Jason and Stephanie, in front of Edward.

"Look at this flexible grandpa who imitates youngsters.", Eddie teased.

"Careful not to break something.", Steph supplemented in the same tone.

Not taking offense, the British man retorted with dignity:

"I am not an _ancestor._ Besides I am in perfect physical shape, and have an optimal health for someone my age."

"That's cuz you are James Bond who retired as the Waynes' butler when ya deemed you served the queen of England long enough."

Alfred didn't confirm... but he didn't deny either, Jason's statement. The four of them shared a complicit smile.

"Where was it?", Ed gestured to the package.

"In our mailbox. Freshly arrived, I didn't see who delivered it."

Not breaking the gift paper, Robin untied it carefully, to reveal a _cardboard box_ he cautiously opened...

"It's a heart?", Stephie bent forward.

Edward frowned, the blood red item he picked more heavy than he suspected in his hand.

"Not quite... it's a _glass_ heart."

He spread his fingers to let them watch.

The glass object minutely replicated a real, human-sized heart.

"Dat's creepy.", Jason judged.

"I agree..."

Edward lifted up the piece of paper at the bottom of the box: the card of a flower shop located in a, comparatively, modest district.

"And here comes the address."

"You know where it is?"

"Please, mister Pennyworth.", he bragged. "I know _every_ nook and cranny of this dear crazy town."

He stood back up, returning the glass heart to its box.

"Must answer Davy Jones' invitation."

The younger ones giggled.

"Can we help too?", Steph required, jumping to her feet.

"... Actually, you can.", Edward came to terms with letting them participate.

"Really?!"

"Really.", he smiled. "To the Batcave, I'll show you how."

Alfred stayed behind, sporting a content expression upon watching Jason and Stephanie who ran to the corridor closest to the Northern side of the Manor, toward one of the various secret passages of the property.

The trio rapidly went down by a less used access opening to the giant underground space.

"You can guide me.", he offered once they stood in front of the main computers. "Last time this maniac played, he set up games via a homemade _computer program,_ but he destroyed everything post-scheme, I couldn't track his signal or fetch any data from his encoding."

"So you elaborated a fishing program to collect the informations in synchronization in case an equivalent situation recurs?", Stephanie guessed as he opened pages of softwares.

"... Exactly.", he validated, impressed by her clever analysis. "How did you figure that out?"

"It has something to do with my older brother being a geek, a detective and a smooth talker who _loves_ the sound of his own voice, therefore spends way too much time rambling about his computer codes, nerdy stuff and science."

The three of them laughed at this truthful picture.

"Touché! And if you acquire automatic nerd reflexes, then I take it as a personal victory."

"Worry not, Robin.", Jason assured with pride. "We'll be yar eyes and ears on this, and we'll register your psycho-buddy's every moves."

"I'm counting on it. Now..."

He turned to the nearest bat-themed vehicles.

"... which one do you think B cares about the less? Because although technically I know _how_ to drive a car or a motorcycle: I saw Bruce, Alfred and Barbara doing so multiple times, I've never been the driver. I might as well destroy everything and run into a wall if I don't negotiate the turns."

"If ya do that, Bruce will fire you.", Jason shared his thoughts. "But consider da positive point!"

"What 'positive point' should I consider in getting fired?"

"Steph and I are both ready ta be the Third Robin when ya lose your job."

"... Incredibly heartwarming, thank you very much."

"Ya're welcome!"

The teasing ended in cheerful laughters as Edward ruffled Jaybird's hair affectionately.

__________

Wearing this slightly different domino mask didn't diverge much from the traditional, more common version of the inevitable accessory; this one was simply a bit thicker than his habitual masks. With this connected version, he was directly linked, thanks to homemade algorithms, to the Batcave's screens. This felt... worrying. Notwithstanding he could disconnect himself, this widget made him feel _exposed._ Why had he proposed that again...?

" _Roger that, we handle this!_ ", Steph confirmed from the Batcave.

"I'm counting on you."

They were euphoric they've been given a job.

The bat-motorcycle was far easier to ride than Edward feared, certainly designed to be much more docile than a normal bike.

He drove without complications, parked his bike in a side alley and entered the... small, ordinary flower shop, closing the door behind him. Albeit a few people saw him, he had been fast enough not to attract attention. With a dash of luck, none of the bystanders outside this end of afternoon will follow him inside.

He took the requisite steps to reach the reception desk, in the middle of a striking variety of flowers.

No one around in the cramped space.

A phone rang on the countertop, Edward automatically picked up.

" _Where is Batman?_ ", the modified voice greeted severely.

"Good evening to you too.", Ed retorted in a composed, calm intonation. "How's life treating you? Like a piece of garbage? That's why you chose a flower shop: you count on the subtle perfumes to cover your stench? I'm afraid that's not working."

He heard Jay and Steph laughing in the background of his headset, but isolated noises coming from their side to focus on his psychopath when they answered:

" _I. Asked. For. Batman._ "

"And I asked Santa for a jetpack last Christmas.", he made up a prompt reply, loving as always to demonstrate the showman side of his personality. "I'm still waiting for it."

There was a... sound, hard to identify with the filter on, from the other side of the phone.

" _Your game was last week._ "

Obsessive-compulsive disorder, Ed was well-placed to pinpoint this via the need, like there, to follow a self-established schedule.

"You organized your attacks for them to occur every Sunday and you gathered informations. First time you tested the reactivity of the police, last week you set an I.Q. test with me, I'm glad my program deleted everything by the way, so that you won't retain results. This week you wanted to give flowers to Batman?"

" _It's made for him._ "

"... How are 'flowers' made for _Batman?_ "

" _You don't get it?_ "

Tossing his taunting aside, he activated his detective senses. Edward regarded the bouquets, floral compositions... From the corner of his eye, he caught a clue: the side of a marble stone.

A tombstone.

Edward tensed. The advantage of his mask is that it records: this madman being a bomber who makes everything explode every time, it's useful to keep a video of the surroundings. Not for him, he is able to remember every detail and relive a scene in his head effortlessly, but if images could be needed for an investigation. To build up a file, to provide evidences of what happened.

"That's the plan?", he jeered, keeping a confident facade on while his mind ran at full steam to make links and deductions over this, for now, more than nebulous affair. "You expected to trap Batman in a shop for him to choose which flowers he'll put on his grave if you killed him?"

" _I wouldn't kill him. Just like for you, the pretty one and the whore-looking blue one, dying would be a collateral damage, it's not the main goal._ "

Barbara and Dick, Ed translated. This guy ambitioned to go after, in that order: the GCPD, Robin, Batman, Batgirl and Nightwing. Who the Hell is this...?

"I asked you three questions last time.", he won time to progress in his, for now unsure, questioning over why _this_ place and what the bigger scheme must be. "I'll complete: are the hostages you selected directly linked to Batman?"

" _I am the one who asks the questions today._ "

That's a yes, Eddie added in his file. This person is someone who nurtures a deep-rooted hatred for the Bat or a demented fascination for him. Or, because this is Gotham, _both._

Joker will get jealous if that flirt kept going.

"What's the matter, am I not wearing enough black and grey for your taste? Are the green, red and yellow so disappointing you don't deem them worthy to play your game?"

" _Do you engage to assume Batman's responsibilities?_ "

"I guess that's what I signed for."

" _Then you'll have to make the choices for him._ "

The communication ended.

Edward walked to the tombstone. He pushed a bouquet of blue orchids to properly see three names written on it:

**Martha Wayne**  
**Thomas Wayne**  
**Selina Kyle**

A wave of panic menaced to take over. _Who_ is this person?!

He turned the headstone. A quote was written on the other side:

**When you find a heartbeat that calms the storm in you, hold it close with everything you have.**

A flower shop, a tombstone and three people related to Bruce Wayne...

He spotted a bouquet of daffodils with finally, _something_ on it: a yellow card tied to the stalks by a purple ribbon. He read the single question scribed in an elegant handwriting:

**If you are even a tiny hint romantic, what flower would you offer to the girl you love?**

"So here we are.", Ed spoke out loud to eventual cameras. "In fact it's not me you wanted to ask out, but Bats. You are _embarrassing._ "

It didn't take long for him to notice a beautiful bouquet of crimson red roses, definitely the kind you'd bring to your lover in order to express your passion in a... demonstrative manner.

"It amazes me how you: take yourself for Poison Ivy except you lack the style, think you can compete with Joker except you don't have the imagination, and act as a mastermind without relying on a semblance of _intelligence_ to come up with elaborate moves. You think piece by piece instead of developing a global vision: how are you planning to finalize your puzzle if you exclusively work with detached parts, never considering the entire picture? That's why your schemes look like a draft and your actions appear solely _confusing_ so far."

There, he made this guy angry. That's a good point. Or at least... a point.

" _Contact this man and tell him to join me at Gotham Cemetery. He is involved, telling him Robin requires his services will be enough for him to answer_ _._ "

"Roger doger!", Jason approved, Steph and him activated a communicator.

They were so _thrilled._

"Chuck Brown?", Stephanie spoke in the device, trying to sound deadly serious whilst Jay and her were smiling widely, sitting together in front of the screens of the Batcave. "Here is team Robin, we get to order you around."

Just imagining Charles' _face_ in reaction to their introduction almost made them laugh.

" _Can I help?_ ", he queried nonetheless, eager to please. " _Robin said he'd liaise with me if he needed a hand in this case._ "

"He is dealing with the third scheme by this same killer," Steph exposed, "and is heading to Gotham Cemetery to free hostages. If you want to be useful, you must meet him there."

" _I'm leaving right now!_ "

" _Can I come with you?_ ", they heard a second voice, doubtless belonging to a boy their age. " _I want to participate too!_ "

" _No you can't... I'll come back soon. I... hu... will tell you how it went!_ "

Stephie and Jason smiled at the similar situation: the younger sibling who wants to play a part in the action, who is awkwardly dismissed by his big brother who won't put him in danger.

Once Chuck left his flat and after they told him they'll keep in touch, they turned toward one another.

"What if we recruit dat kid?"

"That's what I was thinking too!", Steph rejoiced. "Plus I have to obtain an explanation from Ed as for _who_ are those guys and _why_ we have the same family name."

"Ya think they're yar cousins?"

"Dunno," she shrugged, "if they are though, it will be a funny discovery!"

"Sure thing! We'd won two more persons in da team."

"We're so popular."

They shared a homemade high five and a proud, smug smirk.

"Wait...", Jay noted afterwards. "Edward disconnected his camera!"

Steph glared at the biggest computer screen.

"... He is getting to the 'hostage part'. If someone dies or is injured, he doesn't want us to see it."

"Damn, I almost thought he'd allow us ta be there the whole time."

"Same... you have an idea how to restart his program?"

"Do I look like Babs?!"

Steph eyed the blank screen intensely.

"Perhaps the encoding is still open somewhere. If so, we won't have to relaunch everything, just to find the source code."

"Let's hunt for dat 'source code', then!"

They were determined to restore the connection.

A connection Edward cut on his way to the graveyard after he read a poem attached to the roses:

" _O thou, the wonder of all days!_  
_O paragon, and pearl of praise!_  
_O Virgin-martyr, ever blest_  
_Above the rest_  
_Of all the maiden-train! We come,_  
_And bring fresh strewings to thy tomb._  
  
_Thus, thus, and thus, we compass round_  
_Thy harmless and unhaunted ground;_  
_And as we sing thy dirge, we will_  
_The daffadil,_  
_And other flowers, lay upon_  
_The altar of our love, thy stone._ "

_\- Extract from Robert Herrick's The Dirge of Jephthah’s Daughter_

Even not the clearest text around due to its obsolete language, Ed didn't need more clues to deduce it is not the flower shop this guy wanted to blow up, but the cemetery. More likely: the grave of Thomas and Martha Wayne. He may never visited the graveyard, Edward knew what direction he must take, he simply hoped he won't waste too much time searching for the Wayne couple's vault.

He conjured up his memories of the occasions the grave was shown during reportings or in articles, to try to visualize where it could be located inside the cemetery.

Thanks to his grapple hook, he jumped above the walls circling the cemetery, which is closed to the public at this hour. He walked for less than a minute when a... lump of green and yellow garments landed messily at a few rows of tombstones from him.

Robin quickly reached the spot, to be faced with a cumbersome experimental equipment.

"You are wearing a... kite?", he blinked once he helped Charles to his feet.

The piece of rigid green fabric on his back _totally_ looked like a kite.

"I want an impressive costume!", he struggled at keeping an adequate balance. "I am looking for a catchy vigilante name to show I am a man with a kite!"

"... Kite-Man?"

Whereas Ed prompted this to make fun of him, the dude found the proposition _tempting_ for he replied a vivid:

"Hell yeah!"

That earned a chuckle from Eddie.

"Fine... Kite-Man," he jested, "rapid briefing: last week I saved your son and an eldery person died. I believe this evening will be similar, except I intend to save _both_ hostages this time."

Chuck didn't correct the mention of his 'son'.

"What are we looking for?", he rather redirected.

"The grave of Thomas and Martha Wayne. This freak strives to soil celebrities' afterlife residences."

Without giving secret identity hints, everybody knows the Wayne couple, it won't seem suspicious they belong to the icons someone would attack first if wanting to hurt the heart of Gotham City.

As for the link with Catwoman, well... that will be another problem.

__________

Taking care of the aftermath figured not among Batman and Robin's qualifications. Initially, Edward construed this as an advantage: they never witness the victims' follow-up or the criminals' condemnation. Only the actions, as if those are separate episodes from a show in which they participate to some scenes, not to the full story correlated to the affairs.

Tonight is divergent.

Edward felt... out of place, there in Gordon's office. He advised Charles Brown to leave prior he called the police.

"I could need Kite-Man in ulterior investigations.", he had assured. "No need for you to take part of tonight's interrogations."

Chuck had been profundly touched to be taken for an actual teammate, he made the military hand salute and answered an energetic:

"Yes, sir!"

Then the grown man failed at flying out of the graveyard because the mechanism in his kite wasn't working anymore, so he climbed a portion of wall to exit the cemetery and will have to _walk_ to his apartment complex. His outfit truly necessitates a few adjustments...

When he left, Edward turned toward the two teenagers. Among their fake thugs list, there were parents whose fifteen years old daughter and seventeen years old son were kidnapped. Finding them in this state was highly... disturbing.

Chuck stood behind him when they came across three black and golden coffins, two human-sized and a third between them that looked like an accessory from the universe of the Monster High dolls.

Edward's heart beat faster with apprehension: could this creep go as far as digging the Waynes' caskets up?!

Before attempting anything with the coffins, he discerned a box on the ground below the toy. Robin knelt in front of it, opened it and picked up the mobile phone that rang inside.

"What's the matter?"

" _You are not Batman._ ", the voice outlined, categorical. " _I wanted to play with Batman, to make him choose between two young idiots and his cat-lady, whom he cannot hope to find if he doesn't read the clues in that adorable little coffin in the middle._ "

"So what is it, hu?", Edward's eyes narrowed in two thin slots. "You want to prove Batman he cannot save everyone?"

" _I want to demonstrate he_ chose _who he_ saved!"

Alright. They were getting somewhere. _Where_ exactly, Ed couldn't tell, but... somewhere nevertheless.

His killer informed him who are the victims dealt with this week. Turned out the teenagers were drugged inside these coffins, reason why they weren't making any noise. As Robin guessed, trying to pry the lids open by force would make the boxes explode.

This is not a game, not a riddle, just... a straightforward choice.

"You lack of creativity.", Robin blamed, his jaw clutched. "You don't know what Batman will do?"

" _I know. He will save his lady._ "

"... In fact you don't know him at all."

The small coffin burnt after Edward made it clear he'll save the children. No real hesitation: two persons would have died burned alive in place of a box of papers. He couldn't decide otherwise.

At present in Gordon's office, the teens were being taken care of elsewhere, he didn't know a thing about this.

"I feel like I should do more."

Jim addressed him an apologetic smile.

"You did the maximum. What else could you have done?"

"Question would rather be: what else have I _not_ done?! I don't know anything about that creep, I didn't discover where they keep Catwoman hostage, I don't even know _why_ no reporting talks about them yet!"

"The explosions were covered.", Jim listed in a reassuring tone of voice. "The hostages freed were asked not to evoke their experience. This happens... more often than I wished. As for the interrogations? They gave birth to nothing relevant: the victims were detained in a cell in a cave alone, not seeing anyone, they don't know who were the other hostages and apparently they never saw the face of the person or persons in charge."

"They necessarily said _something!"_

"No Robin, they haven't. Do not feel like you can do anything about this. You can't."

Gordon sighed.

"When I joined the police, I thought I will be able to stop crime. I never predicted I'd _assist_ a man dressed like a bat, his bird-boys and a bat-girl. I wouldn't have bet I'd spend all my time putting freakshows in an asylum, again and again, only for them to escape two weeks later. Truth is, the killers who kidnap hostages and don't show their faces are... rarely arrested in this town. My job is to make sure the medias never learn about them or that would create an additional source of panic the citizens of this city really don't need."

He paused, hoping Robin won't insist further. He perceived the child's desire to get more involved, this is how himself reacted at first, before he got that it won't do any good, that he must _accept_ some cases need to be covered, locked down and never unveiled to the public.

"Except for their targets in matter of living hostages who are relatively unknown faces, according to their strategy this maniac is becoming like Holiday."

"Holiday...," Edward recalled, "the killer from the Falcone family who committed one crime every meaningful date in the calendar for almost a full year."

Jim nodded, appreciative.

"It's a years old case, I didn't think you'd know about it!"

"I lived in Gotham already.", he disclosed without giving away elementary informations regarding his personal backstory. "I followed the case on the news, even if clearly, I never felt much 'concerned' about it."

"Comprehensible."

He was eleven this... whole year nicknamed 'The Long Halloween' by the press, during which the serial killer Holiday and the trio Batman / Commissioner Gordon / district attorney Harvey Dent became one of the favorite subjects of the medias.

Even Joker's plans this year weren't as popular in comparison with the thrilling affair.

"... The difference is that Gotham citizens _knew_ about Holiday.", Edward emphasized. "While this one, who shows up for the third consecutive Sunday and makes victims _every time,_ hasn't been... revealed."

"It's a necessary precaution.", Jim belabored, his forehead frowning with transparent concern. "The schemes led by rogues and the massive, violent settlings of accounts between mobsters are mediatized because of how colorful and visible they are. A serial killer doesn't make that much noise. Have you ever heard of KGBeast? Abattoir? Jane Doe? The Absence? Mister Whisper? The Birthday Boy?"

Eddie shook his head no.

"They are murderers who killed many over the past years.", Gordon indicated, his fists clenching at the mere thought of these monsters. "Birthday Boy was arrested, two others vanished. The latests are considered 'inactive', they haven't perpetuated attacks. Abattoir arrived at two victims per year, every 30 of November and 15 of April, the two others don't kill anymore unless someone tries to resurrect their case. Every time a policeman opens their files and begins an investigation, someone close to them, generally a friend, dies, wearing the trademark signs of the killer. With always a warning pinned somewhere: 'Next time, it will be...' and the name or photo of someone closer to the cop than the first victim was."

Robin's eyes opened wide in shock, the white ovals of the domino mask practically turning his face into a cartoonish expression of surprise.

"How come... this is tolerated?!"

Not registering his movement and before he controlled the angry impulse, his fist collided with the wooden surface of the desk, so strongly Jim's coffee mug fell on an opened file. Luckily for the document, the coffee inside has been since long emptied, only a few cold drops of black liquid lined the bottom of the cup.

Gordon patiently scooped his mug up to place it back where it left a round mark on the wood. Thereafter he rummaged in a cupboard of his desk to extract a medium-sized frame.

Wordlessly, he handed it over to Robin.

The sidekick grabbed it mechanically. He blinked under his mask at the typical 'happy family' picture.

Jim Gordon, younger and far less stressed, dressed in short pants, thongs and a blue Hawaiian shirt, with his dark red hair neatly combed and his moustache thin at the time, held the hand of an objectively _beautiful_ brown-haired, black-eyed woman wrapped in a loose yellow dress. Between the two, a girl whom must be ten or eleven and a little boy, therefore seven or eight knowing Barbara and Junior's age gap. Both Babs and James inherited of Jim's dark red hair, freckles and sky blue eyes requiring glasses, or lenses as Batgirl preferred.

The landscape behind them featured a port, they were unmistakably during summer holidays away from Gotham, enjoying a privileged moment during a family trip.

Edward looked up, invaded by a bizarre sensation of... unease.

"My family.", Gordon stated in all simplicity. "When we lived under the same roof. My daughter is nine, almost ten in this since we were in August, my son seven. One year after this photo was taken, my wife and I divorced, and my son spent most of his time at her place, rarely to ever visiting. Until she remarried, had a new son with her current husband. James Junior came back to Gotham more often after this. Last time my ex-wife and I saw him, he was sixteen years old."

"You... never had a contact with him since then?"

"Sparse phone calls the first year, some messages until the day he turned eighteen. As a legal adult then, he made me know explicitly he doesn't have to keep contacts with me anymore, and that he began a new life, in Manhattan at the time. Now he is twenty-three, almost twenty-four, and I have no idea where he is or how he is doing. Sole thing I am certain is that he wouldn't have returned to Gotham, he hated it there. He was... a bit like you, he loved computers, was highly intelligent, had a sharp tongue, and had a thing about _knowing everything._ At school he always managed to get informed of the private life of his teachers and comrades, that was..."

He paused, realizing he was babbling.

"I... I show you this because I took one of the serial killers' cases. On the bleeding corpse I found in my apartment of my girlfriend, there were three photos: Barbara, who was twenty-two then, Junior, and my ex-wife with her husband and her son. Alongside a message: 'Next time, it will be one of them'."

Edward's stomach constricted.

"That's... awful."

"Worse than that: once I wished I'd catch Absence just to urge them to tell me where Junior is, since visibly this _murderer_ knows how to find my son, while I, his _father,_ don't. I hope he is alright. That he... found a job he likes, rents a nice flat... maybe has a girlfriend? I still hope one day, he'll come back."

Robin's unease morphed into a tenacious guilty feeling.

"I... I'm sorry."

Jim offered him a tired smile.

"Don't be, your reaction to finding out the justice in this town is unable to protect its own policemen is legitimate. I am afraid, kid, that you'll have to play it discreet: if the press doesn't know about an affair, then you must not tell them. You'd only put the journalist or the informer who communicated the files in danger, alongside their family. Imagine how you'd feel if you went to Gotham News, gave the details to the editorial staff, and the office of the gazette exploded next Sunday 'cause our killer of the moment doesn't aspire to be revealed?"

Indeed... he wouldn't sleep well that night.

"I am sorry for your son.", he pledged therefore, this being true too.

Jim made the picture disappear back inside its cupboard.

"Again, don't be. It's not like you knew him, anyway."

Okay... he really needed to put an end to this awkward conversation before the cop suspected something.

"If I did... If I knew him. Would you want me to... ask him to pay you a visit?"

Jim frowned, a glimmer of hope shining behind his glasses.

Damn, couldn't he keep his mouth shut?!

"... Do you?"

"No! But... You are so nice with me. And from what you told me, Junior and I have... common centers of interest? I wish I could help."

Contrary to him, Eddie added internally, I am not: a psychopath, I don't crave to smell blood to get turned on, I am not a sadist, I am not... like, yerk. I am _not like him._

It's as if Jim doesn't know his son at all.

All things considered, that is... actually the case. Even if James was likely a _weird kid_ given how fucked up he is now, his family, teachers, probably _no one_ either, could have predicted he'd grow into a monster. How could the policeman guess what his offspring became?

"You are kind.", the Commissioner conceded tenderly, then he divulged: "One of my New Year wishes every year is to hear from my son."

"... People change, you know."

"I know. That's why I hope one day, he'll find the strength to forgive me."

Knowing him, that won't be for this year either.

"Are you a believer, Robin?"

"... Well..."

"Oh, sure. Secret identity issues."

Jim fished a thin golden chain from under his shirt, ended by a golden cross. Ed saw Babs wearing a similiar necklace, usually resting under her shirts. Sometimes the small golden cross popped up, especially during summer or the warm days of the beginning of fall, when she wore sleeveless shirts and generally less covering clothes, while during this season the pendant is more likely to disappear under pullovers, scarves, vests and buttoned up thick shirts.

He never gave much thought about the necklace, simply found it pretty the first time he glimpsed it around her neck. His siblings and him never tackled the religious question.

"My children and I are baptized, I go to the Protestant Church every Sunday aside from exceptions linked to urgent cases or vacation trips with my daughter, when she was younger."

Now that he mentioned it, Junior cultivates a frankly unjustified _hatred_ for any type of religious beliefs. Therefore it seems logical the Gordons are Christians, James taking great care of rejecting and loathing _everything_ that could remind him, even distantly, of his family.

"I regularly pray for my son to return, to rekindle a contact with me. And for him to have a great life."

"... I am sure your prayers will be answered.", Eddie responded politely, whilst, despite being an atheist, _praying_ for the Commissioner not to cross paths with James Junior, to _never_ be faced with the... manipulative, hair-raising psychopath that is his adult son.

Gordon mirrored an appeased smile.

"I also confess my sins. Among these, the fact I consciously let murderers live their lives to protect my loved ones. I am no hero. I didn't manage to make my wife sufficiently happy for her to stay, I messed up my bond with my son to the point I now have zero way to contact him and I don't even know where in United States... or the world, after all he could have moved to another country, he settled and what he does for a living. I have Barbara. She is my life, I would do anything to protect her. And that includes keeping secrets. Batman agreed, he knows each file considered a dead end. In some cases, we don't even know if the killer is a man or a woman, we assigned them a code name to classify their dossier. We know nothing about them except for the fact if we move, someone we care about will die. So we don't, and we don't alarm the population either; Gothamites have enough things to worry about not to annex this to their recurrent concerns."

"I understand."

Still, Edward nurtured the firm intention to make this killer affair _public._

Once he will, he'll have time to look into the mysterious names of the ones that remain free. He archived in a to-check list in his brain: KGBeast, Abattoir, Jane Doe, Absence, Mister Whisper.

"And every year for Christmas," Jim concluded, defeated, "in addition to hoping there won't have an attack during the celebrations, I wish my family would reunite. Even if I know it won't happen."

__________

"You should be sleeping.", Robin lectured them with a fond intonation.

His kids called shortly after he left the GCPD Headquarters to inquire how the hostage situation plus debrief with Gordon went; he paused in a side lane to answer, sharing his admiration when they told him they succeeded in restoring a visual and auditory contact via his program.

" _We ain't going to bed until ya're back home._ ", Jason retorted. " _What's takin' you so long?_ "

"I am not done for tonight."

He understood why Jim couldn't go after a certain type of killers. If he was a cop, Eddie would react the same: it's untenable, and _horrible_ to think the police isn't able to guarantee its _own_ safety while they are the ones who protect the population. In the Commissioner's shoes, or in any detective's, Edward wouldn't risk his family's safety to make barely an _attempt_ at catching ghosts.

But he wore a mask for a reason. It's so much easier to work from under a cover, when neither your identity, your address nor the names of people close to you are openly broadcasted, easily trackable via social networks and press articles.

"I must make a stop at someone's.", he notified his brother and sister. "I don't know how much longer this will take, and you have class tomorrow morning."

" _It's so unfair!_ ", Stephanie whined. " _We participated, we are involved! You can't just dismiss us because it's getting late!"_

"I don't dismiss you.", he comforted in his 'mom voice'. "The scheme itself is closed for tonight, I will simply report informations to a... potential ally, it's an awaited continuation. I'll be back after this."

In the Batcave, Steph and Jay shared a glance. They got it would be fruitless to insist.

" _Fine._ ", Stephie agreed for them both. " _We'll defer our frustration not to see everything on Alfred if he doesn't select an appropriate bedtime story._ "

"Sounds like a suitable plan."

He wished them goodnight, in exchange of fakely frustrated comments. Edward was aware Alfred will have a hard time convincing them to sleep, and that they'll project a vengeance against him tomorrow.

Those little angels.

Ed climbed back on his bat-motorcycle, he aimed an address he kept in mind weeks ago, alongside her phone number in case he'd require assistance via the official way.

Before he got to turn the engine on however, a collection of muffled screams echoed from an adjacent street. Not so long ago, when hearing this agitation whilst he was himself outside at night, Edward silently turned away and left, his heart pounding fast in his ribcage with apprehension, his throat dry and fear making him feel wide awake, hyper-aware of the danger from his immediate surroundings, fingers clenching his gun all the while in case he'll have to defend himself.

Tonight like back then, his hand indeed wrapped around the handle of his firearm, at the difference said weapon is no longer a classic gun loaded with six bullets, rather a non-lethal phaser sending ultrasound impulses.

But tonight, unlike back then, he didn't retreat mindful not to make a sound not to be noticed.

Tonight, unlike back then, he stepped in, stormed in the dirty lane where two men assumed being dissimulated in the shadows allowed them to act like savages. Tonight, unlike back then, he screamed at the wanna-be thugs to get the Hell out and fired of his weapon.

Like a... 'warning shot' directly unto the first one's head. At this short distance, the impact will leave an hematoma bigger than an apple on his bald skull; the force of the impact caused him to take two steps backwards.

The other spat insults, that individually weren't worth referencing. In matter of hand-to-hand combat, Edward was not an expert. His gadgets helped nonetheless, after he fired again and unfolded his cane for a violent kick on the kneecaps then on the back of the neck when the man bent under the first shock, he earned the oh so satisfying view of the aggressors leaving, bruised and unwilling to prolong a confrontation with a vigilante for...

The blow that hit him from behind on the right temple, delivered with what the young woman found on the ground: an empty glass bottle, caused white spots to obscure his vision. He didn't realize he fell until his knees and gloved hands collided abruptly with the pavement.

He heard clack of heels as the woman he presumably saved from getting robbed and raped ran away.

"... You're welcome...", he let out feebly in answer to the powerful kick that thanked him for his rescue.

Blinking away the spots, he sat on the dirty ground near a massive trash can, focusing on regulating his biological reactions not to faint or vomit given how the blow made him _dizzy._

Nearly five minutes elapsed with Robin breathing in and out.

His fingers moved to his temple at last. No blood there, he won't need sutures as the glass from the alcohol bottle didn't notch the skin when it broke. Although very unpleasant, he knew from experience this won't provoke aftereffects, other than reminding him of the wonderful displays of affection his loving father reserved for him his entire childhood and periodically over his pre-teen years.

When he finally deemed he could move without blacking out, Edward stood up again and walked to the motorcycle, glad to attest his groggy state gradually left his senses. He foresaw a dull headache tomorrow and an impressive bump on the side of his head, but nothing worrisome.

He could go on with what he planned before this interruption: reaching Vicki Vale's apartment to do the _opposite_ of what Gordon asked him.

In place of keeping the details of the case hidden, he'll give the file to none other than the _most_ eager to create a scandal and to unveil any possible juicy story, journalist in this city.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nerdy Gingers Solidarity.

Batman would have sneaked in by the window, to land directly inside the living room of Victoria Vale's place, unconcerned about the fact it's _late._ The twenty four years old woman could as well be sleeping, taking a shower, enjoying a nice moment with a guest, pal or lover, or not be there at all if she spent the evening at a friend's. Either ways, it would be extremely rude to break in unannounced.

Edward may didn't take the time to call, he deemed his arrival respectable: he entered the building (he _breaked in there,_ not his fault the door of the entry hall possesses such poor security...), and took the elevator to reach the story of her apartment. He observes some elementary decency rules, he had not the intention – _cough_ not the 'capacity' _cough–_ to play flying acrobat who penetrates her flat by the exterior facade of the medium-sized building.

No one in the corridor of the floor when the automatic doors opened, Ed took the few steps toward the apartment he aimed.

He rang the bell. Once, twice. He was about to press the grey button with his thumb a third time when the peephole moved with a harsh click.

A pair of celadon green eyes appeared through the door.

Eddie addressed her his most charming Cheshire cat grin.

"May I come in? I've got some... potentially _interesting_ news to show you."

The journalist's gaze had been kinda frustrated when she showed up, angry to be bothered at this hour. It immediately drifted to pleasantly surprised upon seeing _who_ waited at her door. After his appealing introduction, she seemed delighted.

"You certainly 'may'.", she responded smugly, then closed back the spyhole.

Edward heard locks and chains being removed behind the door, proving she is a hint paranoid... or plainly _realistic_ about dangers around. Finally the door swung open, revealing the inside of her one-bedroom sized apartment and her current outfit: pajama and warm bathrobe, plus comfortable slippers.

She was there alone, no dinner by candlelight or buddies over. A good point, they won't get disturbed by strangers when talking business.

"No Batman?", she glanced above him, as if she expected the tall figure to be lurking in the shadows, his disapproving glare and judgemental expression staring at her as usual when they meet.

"Nope, just me! Neither Bats nor Batgirl like you, they wouldn't have stopped by. When I say they don't 'like you', to be closer to the truth I should rather say they really _can't stand you._ If by any chance they'd require assistance from an influent journalist, they would retain _anyone else,_ even less famous than you, before considering to ring your doorbell."

"I'm flattered they think so highly of me.", she valued with a cocky smile; she closed the door behind him when Robin stepped inside. "Not that it's much of a shock: I _live_ to be the GCPD, this town's vigilantes and Gotham celebrities' pet peeve. If I am popular enough for that my main targets hate it every time they see me and think internally 'fuck, that's Vale again!', then I succeeded."

"I am a huge fan of your way of thinking."

There they were, sharing a heartfelt laugh. Edward knows why he is fond of this woman.

She invited him to the living room to which the small entry opened directly. Vicki's laptop was opened on the desk, located below the backrest of her couch that faces the TV turned on, displaying a mushy Christmas romantic comedy. Ed would have begun by broaching the dossier he wanted to transmit, if he didn't perceive a subjective factor in the present setting: the living room is... not what he imagined.

It was not 'dirty', albeit it held a... neglected aspect. It was not tied up, but Vicki living alone and not expecting visits, it's standard she didn't take the time to store papers, fold the blanket on her couch, put the vest and sweatshirt that lay on an armrest in a wardrobe, change the faded flowers in the vase on a library shelf, remove the half-emptied box of chocolate and almond biscuits, organize the magazines on her low table and pick the ones that fell on the carpet.

He noted the... bottle of whiskey, with its glass nearby.

"You were working?"

"Actually, yes.", she took a chair from the table for two in the kitchenette, to place it next to her desk chair. "I serve you a drink?"

"... Do you often write articles with a bottle of alcohol by your side to give you strength?"

"This is not to give me strength, kid. This is to keep a smooth functioning."

"Alcoholism doesn't keep you functioning."

That made her smile.

"If I had a mom or dad who knew and / or cared for what I do in my life, they'd probably say something like that. Lucky me I don't, so... do not waste your time. What's up with that bump?"

Ed massaged the upper right side of his head, which felt on fire.

"Took a blow from a person I was saving.", he winced. "That will serve as a lesson when I try to play white knight."

Vicki laughed.

"Being a superhero is hard.", she jested.

"But worth it! If you have an ice pack though, I'm interested."

He sat on the chair she brought whilst she went back to her kitchenette.

Eddie smirked when he eyed the opposite wall: a large panel of cork covered of photos, pieces of articles, handwritten deductions and blueprints tacked on the plate. This conspiracy-looking board is visibly her method to determine the urgency of her articles.

"I was on a text featuring you.", she announced, coming back with a sachet of frozen peas and a tiny towel.

Robin thanked her, he applied the icy bag on his forming bump. Now that felt so much better.

"Will this article flatter my ego by flaunting my superior intellect, natural handsomeness and endearing personality?"

"... Maybe not that much in this one. To compensate, I speak of you highly enough in my reviews."

"I read these! I greatly appreciated each."

They shared a complicit smile. Prior they got to the meat of the matter, Vicki took care of finishing to play hostess:

"Aspirin?"

"With pleasure."

She disappeared back in the entry to have access to the sole corridor of the flat, likely leading to her bathroom to pick medicine.

Edward gazed at her computer screen, he took the liberty to scroll through the photos starring... Hal Jordan and him during their moment at the Christmas market. Much smaller than Gotham's, this market followed the typical organization of chalets selling food, objects or decorations. In the first photo they were ordering to a merchand who prepared churros; in the second they looked adorable with their victorious expression when holding hot chocolate goblets and a churros paper bag; they were openly laughing in the third. That's the instant Hal narrated a tale of one of his recent adventures: he ended up legally married to a sorta 'spider-shaped' alien when he misunderstood the customs of a planet he visited. Apparently, that spider took very bad to be left behind when he cleared up the misapprehension. Divorces are always difficult.

Ed couldn't tell whether this anecdote and others Jordan shared were true, or if they were based on true facts but _overly exaggerated._ Either ways, he was a talented storyteller, and he confirmed his reputation of 'disaster' with practically everything he said.

Vicki stopped by her kitchenette to serve a glass of water, Edward watched the effervescent tablet plunging and bubbling in the transparent liquid. She added a spoonful of sugar to the mixture, an attention Eddie found delicate. That's how he convinces Jason and Stephanie to take medicine too, when they have to swallow syrup or tablets: by subsuming fruit juice, sugar or chocolate powder in their cup depending on the medication. His left hand wrapped around the glass, his right one busy holding the peas covered of their towel to tamper the burn on his temple and the side of his head.

"It wasn't even in Gotham.", he described mockingly whilst she settled in her desk chair on his left. "Don't tell me you have minions searching for vigilantes outside town."

"It's the closest moderate-sized city.", she riposted while he drank the still-sour-despite-the-sweetness-of-the-sugar medicine. "And I don't have 'minions', I am simply a skilled bloodhound who fishs anecdotes from the Internet and isolates what images are a montage and which ones can be exploited. These pictures are from the same person, some teenager posted them on his blog, so thrilled he saw two heroes hanging out in his town."

Ed recalled a black-haired teen who indeed seemed over the moon when seeing them grabbing their paper bag of churros before they settled for a flat rooftop Jordan flew to with Robin, to taste their paid loot. They haven't done anything that deserved to be recorded.

Lots of people take pictures or film everything they can, it's a main aspect of nowadays' society.

"I'm flattered with the focus.", he granted, putting on a corner of her desk his emptied glass; only an almost invisible residue of white powder lingered inside. "But I don't see what you could make out of these photos."

"What do you think? I planned to use them in the 'tabloid writer' part of my job, I love it as much as relating breaking news about rogues. I'm sure I can persuade people to ship you two."

Edward chuckled.

"We... literally just met.", he indicated nevertheless.

"Then I'll call it love at first sight."

He shook his head fondly.

"I don't see how this could be convincing, but if so... it's funny."

"I thought you'd be mad.", she cast him a wondering side glance. "That's commonly how subjects, would those be vigilantes or social elite, react when I post articles of them engaged in a relationship / developing relationship, whilst knowing myself it's food for fantasies to people magazines readers. They are thirsty for theories about celebrities as much as for stories on their favorite couples in TV shows, movies or comics."

Eddie smiled.

"I'm not gonna say I find it 100% rejoicing you'll track my meetings with the third Green Lantern of Earth; yes, we plan to see each other again, as your photos attest, we had a good time. If you do however... I _love it_ when people talk about me, I wouldn't take offense they assume I am dating an attractive young vigilante. Yet I'm afraid that won't be especially coaxing."

"You'd be surprised the number of persons who crave to listen to that kind of stories, even when they don't go past suspicions."

"I am not surprised.", he discarded gently. "I'm an... active reader of your scandals for years, I _love_ everything. I know most of this is based on rumors or 'that one moment' two persons spoke longer than usual at a gala, acted a bit too friendly one with the other during an interview or looked great together when hanging out."

"Now this makes my day, having a Batfamily member who loves my writing!", she exclaimed, then... finished the remaining liquid in one gulp.

She poured herself a second glass.

Edward barely resisted the urge to grab that glass and put it elsewhere. He never felt disrupted when Bruce and Alfred sip wine or liquors sometimes at dinner, moreover he has no problem smelling alcohol when cooking, for he likes some meals using wine, rhum or beer.

Right now, the view and odor of the thick bottle of whiskey made him nauseous. He cursed his growing headache.

"Everything is in there.", he introduced, placing a little USB key on the keypad of her laptop. "I wanted to transmit that file for a few days already, I selected the informations for them to be imparted without risking to prejudice people's safety."

The document was not edited with this evening's flowers-and-graves-mess, Robin needed to keep under cover the data highlighting this guy knows Bruce Wayne is Batman, or that he is persuaded the two are at least _linked._ The image of Thomas Elliot, his daffodil poem and his detached expression during the gala danced in his mind, of course. He won't go straight to Elliot's residence though, not before he gets more elements. Besides, what reason would Tommy have to attack Bruce Wayne? His family was friends with the Waynes... His family whom he _hates,_ he remembered suddenly, whom his younger self tried to _murder._

Bruce has a... peculiar selection criteria in regards to making buddies.

Vicki plugged the key into one of the USB ports on the left side of her computer. The file opened, revealing a couple of documents, among these photos the forensics took of the crime scenes the first week and pictures of the hostages from day one.

Edward erased the names and faces of their eight fake thugs, he simply remarked they've been used during the making. Not that he cared much about ruining their lives if citizens learned what they've done, still... Chuck Brown is a _sympathetic_ fellow, so is his son-he-shall-call-his-brother. As for the others? He remained curious about Linda Penman who claims to be the biological mother of a child sharing Joker's DNA. And he... voluntarily _stopped reflecting_ about how he'll have to make an attempt at saving Daniel Mockridge and his son. Batman won't need to know the former has been victim of an unfortunate accident.

That will be for later though, he won't pollute his mind with poisoned thoughts on this topic unless it'd become necessary. It was not a priority. At present, he focused on Vicki's inquiry once she browsed through the content:

"The GCPD asked you to keep this covered?"

"Indeed. And they have good reasons to do so. How did you guess?"

"It's not my first rodeo, I excel at the job since I am _seventeen._ I know how it goes; while I'm aware Commissioner Gordon does his best, he always fears I'll touch a sore point whenever I come by. It's been years since the salute I receive from detective Bullock when I show up at the headquarters is a disgusted grunt, and detective Montoya expressly stands up and _leaves._ To mention only them."

She demonstrated her confidence by sounding a tab cheeky, whereas to Edward this came out... rather _sad,_ to think just because she is bold and doesn't keep her mouth shut, she should be treated like a nuisance no one wants to stay too close to. The main faces of the GCPD hate her, the elites (political and financial alike) on which she bases her scandals see her as a merchant of doom, activists insult her on a daily basis for she untiringly denounces the violence of their strike actions, Barbara defined her as "a pain", Bruce abhors her presence in his mansion for galas or at schemes when she interviews vigilantes, it's plausible Dick felt the same.

"I'll make this public.", she testified. "Give me the night to tie everything together and arrange the affair to sell it the most dramatically possible; I'll get Gotham News a bait to seize tomorrow."

"No article on Lantern and I?"

"Of course there'll be one! They are the two aspects of my work: the news first for these pay the bills, and the scandals next for they belong to my personal chronicles, not my boss' commands. I can't choose, I love both sides. I'll take an additional day to finish your article, it _will_ become a thing. I needed a fresh, preferably _young_ fake couple to put under the spotlight now that Harvey Dent begun a serious relationship. People are less convinced by the rumor of Bruce Wayne and him secretly dating."

"... I've been reading this theory for a _while._ I don't think the fact Dent gets a girlfriend will impede the hearsays."

"You didn't meet her, then.", she rejected after a swig of liquor. "I harass Dent and Wayne, inter alia, for long enough to identify their changes of mood: the lawyer is _sincerely_ in love. I could show Wayne suffering from the break-up... but I think the whole thing –which I'm proud I launched– of those two as a couple is buried."

Edward smiled. What a perspicacious mind, no wonder he liked her. He didn't append on this, although making Bruce realize he loves his best friend _is_ a personal fight he does not intend to lose.

"My main couples go back at Sofia Falcone and Sal Maroni, Poison Ivy and Scarecrow, the potentially incestuous relationship between the Rivers sisters, the mayor's infidelities, and, because I need more young, popular faces: Green Lantern and you. The tabloids truly are a flourishing market."

"I'm impatient to read about this!", he played along. "I'll discover and follow step by step an imaginary relationship with a man I hanged out with _once_ so far."

"Remember: if you two get together, I have a precedence over your first interview as a couple."

"I wouldn't think of going to anyone else!"

They shared a smile.

"It really doesn't annoy you?"

"... It's just pretending anyway."

He brushed off any issue in accordance with the theme to steer:

"There's a reason why Gordon didn't want me to show this. This killer goes after families, they collect pressure points on people and force them to play their games."

"Commissioner Hero told you you'd put the journalist, editorialist or reporter you'd notify in danger?"

"Yes."

She laughed. Once again, that sounded... sad.

"Look around you! I live alone. No lover, no date..."

This time Edward anticipated the gesture: his left hand wrapped around the neck of her bottle to put it on the other side of the desk before she grabbed it. She didn't comment.

"That's not unusual for a young adult who is devoted to her work."

"Fine.", she conceded. "For me it extends to: no relatives with whom I kept a contact, no friends, the people who invite me or interact with me in galas do so to be 'correct' and they don't wait for me to step aside to talk behind my back, my colleagues at Gotham News preach a detestable politically correct claptrap and thereby don't hide they _hate_ my freedom of thought."

Not a dash bitter, Vicki seemed unpretentiously... factual.

"That's why I am a good journalist. Gossip excluded, for this is the 'fun' side of my job, I am sufficiently involved not to be afraid to scream out loud what everyone thinks for themselves but is too scared to bring to light when it touches subjects considered 'sensitive' nowadays. While I go on the field and get my hands dirty, in every sense of the term."

"You are not scared when you do?"

"Not enough to step back. I... receive menaces every day in social networks: I get called names, I'd say my preferred one is 'The Viper', and regularly threatened with death. That's how life goes, I won't stop being myself to _satisfy_ everyone. I'm sure you get it, we are... made of the same wood, aren't we?"

"We sure are."

In matter of line of conduct, personality and political opinions, he feels close to her. He read her papers after all. For the rest? Edward won't disabuse her due to identity issues, still he was... glad to be nothing like her: he _has_ a family and friends who mean the world to him.

"You say that," he boasted nonetheless, "because we are both smart, sassy and gorgeous?"

"And redheads. Gingers run the world."

"Couldn't agree more."

They shared a smug smirk. 

"Batgirl refused I name a badass concept, that... suits you and I better that Batgirl and I when I think of it.", he confided thereupon, to carry on the joking mood.

"What was it?"

"Nerdy Gingers Solidarity."

"I'm in love."

__________

Before Edward left Vicki's at night to return home, she admitted she lacked of a Christmas scoop.

"There is nothing Christmas-related in your flat.", he couldn't help pointing out in response. "No decorations, no... Christmas tree and crib at its feet."

"Doesn't mean I don't love the ambiance!", she retorted. "I do myself a few presents and I eat tasty cuisine: I often manage to get invited in galas or bars for Christmas."

This may seem slightly depressing, Robin approved.

Curiosity being always his best motivation to undertake something, would it be regarding serious topics or mundane activities, Ed found himself sneaking a peek in her bedroom later on, when Victoria affirmed writing about the bats-and-birds is her dearest matter of interest. She specified a provocative though amusing "I keep you guys in my bed."

Said item is a large two-persons sized bed. The bedroom, unsurprisingly, wasn't a tidy space either: clothes, sheets of paper, notebooks, _spoons_ for whatever reason, are strewn on the floor, and the blankets look like a nest of crows on the thick mattress. He smiled nevertheless, at the view of plush dolls featuring Batman, Batgirl, the First Robin, Nightwing and him laid on the bed.

"You are by far my favorite Batfamily member, and favorite vigilante of all.", she asserted. "That makes your doll my... second favorite stuffed toy."

"Who's number one?"

She pushed a pillow to reveal a well-known figure from a cartoon, with its brown hat on.

"You have... a stuffed Perry the platypus."

"You don't?"

They laughed some more, what perfectly concluded their interactions of the day. Or rather, _of the night._

Once at the Manor, Edward checked on a sleeping Jason and Stephanie... afterwards he headed back to the Batcave and opened documents for his current researches. He must have passed out in front of the screens at some point, because an alarm woke him up, one of his independent programs noted an activity associated with a villain. Robin was quite proud of his latest encoding: he managed to transform into an algorithm the videos recorded over the past years of emblematic Rogues Gallery members. If the unpredictable moves remain impossible to archive, some recurring patterns, such as: fear toxin impact on the masses, the sight of monstrous plants, the result from freezing guns or Alice in Wonderland-related installations are easy for cameras to trace.

"I disapprove of this program.", Bruce had frowned when he showed him the outline of his elaboration four weeks ago. "Vigilantism doesn't rhyme with playing 'Big Brother is watching you'."

"Says the guys who breaks in at people's places no matter the time of the day or the night, spies inside apartments with binoculars, could sneak in on anybody, plus has a web of informers among street kids. _How_ is hacking cameras at strategical locations across town more morally condemnable than what _you_ do?!"

The debate remained a tensed one, Bruce never used the program and systematically deleted it when Edward saved it inside the 'batcomputers'. As a result, he downloaded the file in his personal laptop and must transfer it every time via a USB key in the Batcave's system, before erasing it after use.

Bruce wasn't there for now though, Eddie won't forbid himself the use of his methods. It's not like he sees everything, he controls a _reduced list_ of cameras and his program detects exclusively reactions reminiscient of what he archived about the rogues' practices.

Therefore he couldn't discern everyone, otherwise for example: targeting Firefly would correspond receiving a warning every time there's a flame caught on camera; Joker or Harley Quinn would show up whenever someone wears a clown makeup; those who have recourse to brute strength can't be classified or that would involve any street fight; same goes for freaks who use classical weapons, would these be blades or firearms since most categories are widely spread and legal in town... and so on.

Really, _why_ is Bruce a killjoy about this whilst it's a simple backing assistance besides patrols, receiving calls from Gordon, Batsignal lighting and being alerted by informers?!

It wasn't 7 in the morning yet when his program woke him up with a dim but discernible beep-beep-beep...

Edward looked up, haggard, from the control board on which he apparently put his head to rest tonight without remembering when he fell asleep.

One of his cameras spotted a bizarre plants behavior. Like, giant vines evolving freely in an avenue.

Turned out there's more, for this is... a Poison Ivy and Mister Freeze team-up.

Last year, Eddie saw on the news that Pamela Isley attacked a chalet of the Christmas market selling firs. The previous year, she blamed a garden center to participate to a "political nonsense", as if Christmas trees became a theme for a debate.

And so forth, Ivy ignites a problem prior Christmas _every year_ since her beginnings.

This December, she hired Victor Fries to attack an open air shop located in a town square that has been converted into an attraction for children, who can 'visit' a forest of firs and have animations provided by cosplayers. The second stall on this place is an expected sale of Christmas trees. That's where Alfred, Jay, Steph and him bought their fir of the year.

No way Edward would let them destroy such lovely installations.

He called Vicki on his way, gave her the location and concluded by an energetic:

"I found your Christmas scoop!"

He parked his motorcycle in a side lane not to be noticed, tried to ignore the fact he'll go after _two_ main rogues _alone,_ and... counted on his luck.

Luck stuck by his side, for Isley and Fries were _quarreling_ when he discreetly reached the center and hid behind massive cut firs.

"I didn't get you wanted to freeze poor guys who are just _working,_ Pam!", the cold-as-ice-but-not-quite-as-stone man looking like some esthetical statue of a frozen goldfish in a bowl protested.

"Do you know _why_ they are working?!"

"Yes I know! They prepare Christmas!"

"For the Devil's sake, you KNEW WHAT YOU SIGNED FOR when coming with me for an anti-Christmas action!"

They were honestly hilarious. Barring the fear of facing those guys that made his heart beat faster and twisted his guts, Edward would giggle at the comical scene.

Far less diverting nonetheless, is the perspective of causing harm to two men and a woman, all crying, tied to a cut tree. They begun early, this square also hosts a chalet that sells hot chocolate, coffee and various pastries on the morning, antecedent to launching animations with more staff members through the day.

Blood has been spread on the firs, as a scandalous metaphor of how 'cutting trees' means 'disseminating dead bodies'; while in this context, said trees are grown to _achieve_ this aim. Batman would have probably jumped in. Edward deemed it preferable to... use the trees against their attackers, why not. Shooting at logical places for smaller trees to fall near them in order to catch their attention has been one first step.

Now... time to come up with another idea.

"Seriously, _what_ is your problem with Christmas trees?!", he initiated while keeping in mind Victor's freezing gun.

Ivy narrowed her eyes.

"They are a mad campaign of destruction.", she hissed upon getting Fries won't retaliate since he was curious too, over this. "A campaign that needs to be _put down."_

"Geez.", Edward unfolded his cane in a quick swing. "I must say I admire your theories on microbiology, but you sound incredibly _dumb_ when trying to behave as an ecologist, for you who experiments daily on plants and creates toxins, poisons and drugs by mutating poor beings who never asked to be taken as lab rats. You claim to defend ecology by attacking workers who till firs for a living and sell them in December after years taking care of each their plantations to make sure the trees grow healthy, like in any production respectful of the environment. How are _you_ a defender of nature?"

She threw vines; he must find where is the generator sending impulses to the plants for the vines to interact like this. Isley is _not_ a meta, she is a talented scientist who experimented on herself then on plants. She wouldn't control them if it wasn't for numerous clever technological tricks.

Edward grinned at the camera. When Vicki showed up alongside a few policemen, work was... practically done. Not gonna lie, the fact Fries and Isley argued all the while _helped._

That it ended up with the two rogues fighting each other instead of him was a _bonus_ he took full advantage of.

As a result: half the square was frozen, Ivy pierced tubes of his suit with her vines, thus after stopping her Freeze was evacuated via an ambulance to Gotham General.

Overall, what a _mess._ Typical from the Rogues Gallery, their team-ups frequently end with the supposedly partners hitting and shooting at each other.

"Don't let a crazy scientist discourage you.", he set up an improvised propaganda in front of the portable camera in answer to one of Vicki's questions post-scheme. "According to her, wearing a green leotard makes her a legit ecologist, while she spends her days butchering plants to morph the innocent things into monstrous creations she forces to fight, having them burned, cut and ripped apart. If you grow firs, you make people happy _every_ year, for these embellish a home and offer children a share of the Christmas magic. Only the doctor Isley finds this condemnable; for anyone else, me included, no one should attack this period of the year. Merry Christmas in advance."

The journalist laughed as she cut the recording. Everything this boy voices is _gold._

"So you saved Christmas trees?"

Edward nodded vigorously. The Monday afternoon at Wayne Manor, they checked the children's lessons: this being the last week of class before the Christmas holidays, they have more homeworks and exams (at their level, elementary school needs its end-of-trimester grades too). They were sitting together at an oval wooden table on the surface of which they arrayed notebooks, papers, manuals, pens and handwritten sheets to study in an optimal environment.

Therefore they were in the middle of a studious afternoon, with hot chocolate and biscuits as helpers placed at the center of the table. Jason revised a history lesson on the main dates of wars and milestones of United States for a test he'll pass tomorrow; Steph finished her homeworks plus redaction she'll hand in Wednesday having for instructions to write the imaginary interview of a celebrity. Bruce made it clear nothing related to Batman and Robin shall appear in their everyday lives, so she chose to interview... Superman. Let's face it, most children in her class will pick heroes, for example Wendy White told her she retained Martian Manhunter, her twin brother Marvin opted for Vixen.

Jenna punctuated by desperate cries for help following the same pattern:

"I'm sorry, I still don't get it. Care to explain again?"

"Of course."

That's something Edward 'modestly' qualifies _commendable_ in his personality: he never loses his patience with people he cares about, he repeats stuff multiple times even when that implies oversimplifying things that to him seem rather easy to grasp. Like the science courses Jenna struggled with, both to finish the exercices she'll submit at the end of the week and to learn a lesson for a test on Thursday.

The ambiance was nice even though three of them were working seriously, and the fourth went from one to the other to provide dedicated help, when they saw the reporting rerun on the news, the TV turned on as a background noise in the living room where they settled.

"I don't get the doctor Isley's hatred for Christmas.", he clarified after answering questions on the 'firs vagary'.

"She's a freak. Dat explains all."

"Language, Jason."

He grumbled.

"She shouldn't attack now.", Steph supplemented. "No wonder she doesn't like Christmas if she spends it in _prison._ It must be so sad in there."

"Perhaps they decorate?", Jenna suggested. "After all, guards and doctors hired there don't profit from long holidays. I bet a few guards will have Christmas Eve and the 25 at Arkham."

"Necessarily.", Ed confirmed. "Officially, there should have staff 7 days a week and 24 hours a day at the asylum. However given the records, the inmates stay completely alone at night and some days, more often than they should, during which the medical supervision isn't assured. For the rest there is what... two guards? three at most? who constitute the night shift, and the maintenance agents who partially clean up once a month or once every two months, who are there early in the morning the rare times they're recruited."

"Even with just this description," the older teenager judged, "that place sounds... repelling."

"... It does. I've seen enough of it via videofootages and I heard the bats' point of view to affirm it _definitely_ does."

Robin studied the prison and its structure... the _known part_ at least, the tunnels under it aren't exactly _accessible._ He sent packages to Jonathan, never visited in person. On top of the trouble to justify it to Batman, Eddie forsaw the tabloids circling like vultures if one of Bruce Wayne's wards spent time in an insane asylum to speak with the Scarecrow. Nope... he won't include this in his schedule, at least not without a cover. And not in the immediate future.

Notwithstanding this, evoking the asylum and how depressing it is made him wonder... should he make a gesture for Christmas? Not many rogues are incarcerated at present, but for those who are and the staff that works during December, perhaps a... little paycheck from Wayne Enterprises, to prepare good food for Christmas Eve, add a blanket or two in the cells, maybe decorate the cafeteria and common room, would be much welcomed.

Yes... he could. Jon may won't be in Arkham this Christmas, if that were to happen, it wouldn't hurt to enjoy a slightly more comfortable atmosphere. So... why not starting this year, and earmark a small portion of budget to establish a tradition from there? It's not like Bruce would mind.

"This place shouldn't be like this, you know.", he murmured quietly, that caught their attention for they perceived a significant change of tone. "It shouldn't... barely watch over inmates, with no adequate security and treatments provided, and no one actually willing to... help them. When he is interrogated, Batman says he wants his rogues to reform. Still, he does nothing for it: he thwarts their schemes, put them back there or occasionally in Blackgate for those who are eligible, and doesn't get involved over what happens inside, behind the asylum's old walls."

"Ya think you coul' do something?"

"I have no idea. I suppose I'd... appreciate, if I was on the other side. I'd love to consider Batman as a sorta _helper_ with who I'd play a game, instead of an enemy."

They shared a smile. He never dissimulated he considers himself a morally grey person: it is a _strength,_ he has no intention to alter perfection.

"What do you think Superman would say if I ask him whether he is in love with someone in the Justice League or not?"

"Obviously," Jenna responded, "he would say he has a crush on the Amazon."

"I don't think he has!", Jason countered. "He'd get along with Mera."

"Or with Silver Sorceress.", Edward appended.

They quarreled animatedly over who Superman would be more likely to date amongst the League.

Steph skipped a grade, she was with kids one year older than her... and the courses honestly seemed a bit boring to her, she _could_ skip another grade.

Stephanie concluded in her homework, following the demanded format of an interview as much as it can be requested from seven years old schoolers:

 **Me:** Mister Superman, are you in love with someone in the Justice League?  
 **Superman:** *blushes hard* Next question.  
 **Me:** Is that a yes?  
 **Superman:** That is a 'if you keep going, my x-ray vision risks to set this microphone on fire because I can not answer the question'.

She went on querying whether it is more comfortable to wear his briefs above his tights or if he has an underwear _under_ it.

Her teacher required eight replies minimum; Steph was elaborating a _whole essay_ of hilarious questions, as ever when she's given a writing exercise. Teachers are _never bored_ with her creations.

Due to matching time schedules, they organized a sleepover this evening, Jenna will benefit of the drive to the children's school tomorrow morning to reach her high school, and will come back for the end of afternoon as well as the Wednesday with them. Everyone loved the arrangement.

This school week will be dedicated to studies. For the incoming weekend, they already planned the Saturday afternoon at a skating rink (there is EVERYTHING in Gotham...), to celebrate fittingly their first day of Christmas holidays.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you do before Christmas? You catch up with your contacts.

"C'mon! Do not try ta refuse da Christmas invitation!", Jason protested vehemently when he translated Dick's polite avoidance indicates a forthcoming absence for Christmas Eve and the 25. "Ya can invite people if you want, there's room for guests!"

"I don't know...", Nightwing declined, sheepish not to be present for the holidays with his... technically _brothers and sister._

He hasn't spent enough time with them. Although he truly aspires to correct his lack of investment so far, he was unwilling to modify his plans with Koriand'r.

The young adult selected a diversion by blaming their eldest:

"Either ways, Bruce isn't even here. I wanted to speak with everyone, I can't decide of my Christmas agenda otherwise."

"Dat's not an excuse."

At the end of the Wednesday afternoon, they got a video call from Dick, what allowed them an improvised glimpse of the inside of his apartment at Blüdhaven. 

Jenna greeted him by a vigorous "Hey handsome!", what made the children laugh. Dick played it thoroughly: fir, tinsels, baubles and various decorations at his place. He officially lives alone, but given his care for embellishments it's evident he regularly has people over.

Starfire, Kid Flash and Wondergirl may don't _live_ with him, the siblings are aware Dick, Kori, Wally and Donna share moments together outside missions. The Titans are buddies before being teammates, they all reside at Blüdhaven for a reason.

Still, Ed reckoned he _could_ make an effort for Christmas. Moreover, the 25 of December has a double signification, what Stephanie lost no time highlighting:

"If you don't have time to visit for Christmas, consider you'll come here for Alfred's birthday!"

Needless to say: they drowned the British man in puns when they unveiled the date. Edward's first one was: "So in fact you are not merely a few hundred years old, you are _over 2000!"_

Alfred seemed resigned to the playful mockeries. He was used to these; Dick too, asked him straightforwardly if he was Jesus when he discovered he is born during the night between the 24 and 25 of December. The butler replied that of course no, he is _God,_ what provoked the, at the time eleven years old's, grandest confusion.

"I'll see what I can do.", Richard rounded off the videochat.

Clearly, this means he most likely won't stop by.

"Let me know when Bruce comes back from his business trip."

He didn't know Batman left Earth, he didn't belabor when he got it's a vigilante affair. He was sincerely clueless as Edward told him their mentor does a work trip, he'll give him more details ulteriorly if Dick wanted. This made Robin feel a tab... defeated. How often did Bruce abandon the nest for days, weeks perhaps, without notifying his ward of neither his departure nor his destination?

Right now, he hoped the Bat won't be long to return. The siblings couldn't envision their first Christmas at Wayne Manor without Bruce.

__________

"Happy birthday.", Edward concluded, sardonic; he stored the envelope in his backpack.

"It's not my birthday."

"It will be soon. You _hate to celebrate_ , and even less to be reminded you grow old on the due date, so... taking a few days of advance."

"You know me too well."

James Junior smirked. On Thursday Edward retrieved at his place a complete document his... 'psycho friend', Eddie nicknamed him that, built for him.

"I demanded a _tracking.",_ he had pointed out, perplexed, when the older redhead fished a thick kraft paper envelope. "Why does this thing look _heavy,_ when it should contain no more than a short list of names? What else did you put inside?"

"I am a meticulous person.", Junior answered as if it explains everything, Ed reluctantly seized the sleeve. "When I sign for a job, I _do it,_ I don't leave side aspects behind."

To anyone, this could seem nice of him, to investigate seriously. Eddie knew better:

"I asked for a _service,_ not a _job.",_ he cringed in a blank voice.

"What's the difference?"

"Do not fake innocence, you _know_ the difference! A service is a simple helping hand, something that doesn't take too much of your time or investment, and therefore is _free_ for the receiving party. A job on the other hand, is a full-time contract that requests more energy from the hired party and consequently, implies a salary!"

James offered him his predatory grin.

"You are one clever little businessman."

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

Ed expected James to discharge him, not to... keep watching him hungrily, like a fox who longs to catch a rabbit.

"I won't pay you.", Edward hissed, Junior's lack of reaction and insistent glances making him nervous. "Don't think you'd..."

"It's fine.", he chuckled at last, in a very unsettling way. "We agreed on the terms: I just want a kiss. A _good_ one, to restate we must keep our relationship alive."

"We are _not_ in a 'relationship', James.", he spurned curtly.

"Worry not, I don't think your boyfriend would mind 'just a kiss'. He'll get jealous however, when you will desire I fuck you because you miss our games."

"I _don't._ I will never _require_ your 'services' in that field."

"Wanna bet?"

Edward huffed to manifest his discontent... then took a step forward himself, stood on his semi-tiptoes and pressed his lips against his. He opened his mouth, giving the other wide access, let him stroke his hair and back, take full control of the movements.

"Wish a merry Christmas to your siblings from me.", James whispered when they parted, gazing down with a... was that tenderness? it resembled tenderness. "Enjoy Christmas Eve with your lovely little family."

Ed may try to keep the curiosity bottled, he ended up querying:

"And you... what are you gonna do? For Christmas?"

Junior arched a red eyebrow.

"The usual: pay a prostitute I'll dress up in a sexy Santa outfit and have my fun. Ever thought of all the nasty things one can do with a box of Christmas chocolates?"

"... Forget I asked.", Edward sighed, chasing away the obscene scenes that formed in his mind. "Do you think of... traditions?", he tempted nonetheless. "Ever wondered what it would be like to have Christmas with your family?"

"You talked to my dad, didn't you?"

Edward froze.

"Why would I have talked to your..."

"You live in Wayne Manor.", he cut casually. "Bruce Wayne's first ward Richard Grayson is my sister's best friend and was her boyfriend until last year, they broke up before he moved to Blüdhaven. Beyond Grayson, it's an established fact Wayne and Barbara are sorta pals too, she is invited to galas he hosts. I guess she is less after the billionaire now she isn't dating his son anymore, but they certainly see each other. One thing leading to another, it's credible Jason, Stephanie and you bonded with her, or frequented her somehow. Thus, you speaking to my father once or twice over the past months is likewise, would this happen via my sister or Bruce Wayne, him and the beloved Commissioner hang out together sometimes."

Junior's reasoning is logical. The guy is smart and quick to make links: whereas his explanation as for why Edward met Jim Gordon doesn't involve Robin, it stays 100% believable with strictly a civilian explanation.

"I interacted with your sister and father, yes.", he confirmed his theory without hinting any other path leading them to meet. "Gordon is... I don't know... he seems _nice._ I hear to you complain about him and the rest of your family for the past three years and a half, depicting your dad as an emotionally abusive bastard who never supported you and cast you out of his life because you don't 'fit' the idea he had of a perfect son. That's something I related to, I thought we... had this in common. I thought you could understand. Now I have a _huge doubt_ anything you said is true. I know what I am talking about: contrary to yours who is, literally, one of the kindest persons I ever met, _my_ dad _is_ an abusive bastard!"

Junior's glare hardened at each word Edward phrased. Robin crossed his arms on his chest, he mirrored the daring look.

James shrugged, as to brush off what Eddie mentioned.

"He is the good Samaritan.", he certified, his tone saturated with bitterness even though his previous tensed posture loosened. "And I am the Consulting Criminal. You'd win trusting _him_ in place of _me._ You are right, Eddie-baby, listen to what my angel of a father says and reject how I relate and interpret my _own life._ It's the choice anyone would make, to get convinced I am the evil one who distorted the past. I should suggest Zsasz adds me a nickname... how about Babadook? This sounds cool."

Ed stared as that odd-as-Hell dude repeated the name 'Babadook' to test its acoustic as it rolled on his tongue.

"Do you ever plan on, then _knocking_ at your dad's door?"

"I do!"

Edward blinked, stunned.

"... Really?"

"Of course 'really'! Why do you think I settled in Gotham of all places? I hate that garbage of a town with every fiber of my being! But it's my daddy's. So obsessed with his quest for justice he accepts to be the monkey of a giant bat. I want to confront him, design a game especially for him, for my sister too. One of those days, we'll have a family reunion. I thought Barbara would do better than working at a library.", he appended without transition. "There's nothing wrong with being a librarian, still I believed she'd work... in the police's cybercrime department, or that she'd get involved in politics. I hoped she'd be running for mayor before her thirties, not that she would... archive books all days and scold people who chat loudly in the shelves."

"... You kept yourself abreast of their lives."

"Sure. Call it... elementary curiosity."

It's disturbing, to think he made researches about his family while never taking the time to tell them he lives in Gotham.

"So... we're good?", Eddie inquired later, hesitant.

"We are.", James approved. "I won't ask for anything else. Regard this file as a proof of my outpouring generosity."

"... Let's say that. Oh and, I almost forgot."

That's when Edward wished him a happy birthday in advance.

That same day, Ed sat on the mattress of the large bed.

A spidery hand moved to his side, slender fingers locked around his wrist to inhibit his initiated standing up movement.

"Stay for a bit."

Eddie turned his head to the right.

"I am awaited elsewhere."

"I don't care. Stay."

Edward smiled. He reserved hours in his schedule after he left Junior's house; he will be on time at his siblings' elementary school at the end of the afternoon.

"Ten minutes?", Jonathan launched a negotiation.

"Five."

"Eight."

"... Fine for eight.", Ed giggled as he laid back on the comfy mattress.

Instantly, two long, skinny arms wrapped around him and pulled him flush against an angular chest revealing protruding ribs. Eddie decided that if Jon isn't getting more meat on this lanky bag of bones and sharp edges that is his body, he'll supervise his diet to make sure he _eats_ and wins some much-needed pounds.

Aesthetic or not, he doesn't have to remind a scarecrow to the point he _starves himself_ and _never takes care_ of his health.

Ed's finger traced scars on his flank, Jon nuzzled his soft orange hair once more. This has an... incredibly calming effect, to be there, just chilling and cuddling in bed, like an... actual couple.

The atmosphere is peaceful. Relaxing.

Domestic.

When Edward emerged from the rapid but efficacious shower he took prior leaving 'their' apartment, dressed back in his civilian attire of the day, Jonathan hadn't moved an inch. From the bed, he watched him with a mild frustrated expression that made him look like an owl spying on one's moves.

"I wished you'd stay.", he hammered, his tone coming out harsher than earlier now that Edward was about to ditch him for, at minimum, the incoming _days._

"I'll be back.", Eddie promised, a fond smile lightening his features; he knew this is a heartfelt affectional declaration from Jonathan. "Besides, you have work to do, doctor Crane.", he ironised, pointing to the Scarecrow rag doll he _indeed bought_ for his boyfriend, that has been placed on the bedside table. "You must give therapy to that poor doll, it witnessed things no innocent creature should see."

"It could have seen more.", Jon retorted in a deadpan intonation. "Plus you have no evidence it's 'innocent' to begin with."

He grabbed the doll and eyed it intensely as he would to hypnotize a patient.

Edward bit the inside of his cheeks not to burst out laughing.

"You fell for its trap: you consider it innocent while it smiles as it projects humanity's doom.", Jon turned back to the ginger once he deemed he obtained a result. "You know why this doll seems happy? It's because it killed already."

This time Ed couldn't refrain his laughter.

"Alright... Let's take up the challenge to give that psycho-miniature-Scarecrow a reason to get traumatized."

"Come over there."

Edward kept a joyous smile on when he left, replaying in his head their exquisite hours together.

__________

"What'cha doing?"

Eddie glared at the silhouette dressed in a green, white and black spandex who appeared behind him out of nowhere. It was almost noon, this Friday his siblings enjoyed their last day of class before two weeks of holidays.

"I'm on a case."

The young adult gracefully landed next to him, he put his feet on the dirty concrete of the small street.

"Your case involves a... flower shop?"

"It's a deadend, nothing useful came out."

He hid in an alley facing the shop. Nothing of the previous installment remained, tombstone and messages disappeared the evening Ed spoke to his wannabe mastermind. He did another routine check regardless, he was about to leave it be when... company showed up.

Robin addressed him a questioning glance.

"I thought you'd visit sooner, where were you?"

"Been busy.", Jordan justified. "I met a woman a few days ago when arriving in Gotham, we hooked up, walked into a bar, I played my seductor act, y'know, the one that works with practically everyone... except when it _doesn't_ and I get slapped. This wasn't one of these times, she was veeeery responsive, we drunk... I realized she poured something in my glass! Not my first time getting poisoned, and with this beautiful li'l thing," he kissed his Lantern ring circling the middle finger of his right hand, even winked at the object seductively, "I am more resilient to face any kind of attack, including poison. I was 'undercover', that's my catchy way to say I wore civilian clothes so nobody knew I'm a Lantern. I played along to see what it was all about: I faked being knocked out, while in truth I registered everything."

He marked a dramatic pause, then went on:

"I got dragged out of the bar alongside other youngsters, proving there were accomplices, and taken to a delivery van using the cover of a society of processed cheese. Some guys drove us during... over an hour I'd say. The truck opened, it parked in an underground parking lot. Their drug was prob' hyper powerful, cuz the others didn't wake up. I let the guys throw me and the four others out... I got it's a trade! With another person, likely working for the 'crazy scientist' type."

"This is Gotham, half the doctors in this city turn rogues or mobsters.", Robin nodded, what caused the other to chuckle prior restarting his narration:

"I heard my poisonous date speak about a contract with 'Dollmaker', whoever that is, she introduced me and the four drugged victims. I thought 'screw this, that's far too creepy', I activated my ring, attacked them... and they _disappeared!_ I think the woman is a meta: she waved of her hand and suddenly pouf! no one left, neither truck nor thugs nor exchange, me alone with drugged folks who must be between eighteen and twenty-five at most I'd say."

Edward was about to ask for details. No need for that though, Hal anticipated:

"I looked for clues... nothing! Nowhere! Not a soul! Just me and my feelings! I made an anonymous call to the police, had recourse to my practiced 'Italian crime boss voice', cuz y'know, most crime bosses are Italian. Dunno if my accent is convincing; once someone thought I am Russian when I imitated the cast from a mob movie. I told the GCPD I stumbled upon four drugged persons, I carried them to a sidelane outside that scary parking lot. I perched elsewhere to survey until a police car arrived."

New pause, this time taking a victorious posture.

"To celebrate my superhero achievement of the day, I went to a casino, where I apparently spent more time than planned... and got entangled in a network of smuggled bushmeat after I offended a guy with whom I played poker. He insulted me in whatever language, too bad for him I have an incorporated universal translator. Lantern privilege coming with my ring. I got what he said, he also mentioned some unsavory affair with his bodyguards."

The twist occurred:

"I discreetly followed him outside and called him 'baby' when we met again, this time I was in my dashing green bodysuit. It's properly a great confidence booster, y'know! That got him all worked up, we fought, I won and I intercepted a drop of merchandise. Except I have no idea what meats laws prohibit the sale of, so I entered a butchery to get an expert opinion. Problem: I walked in the middle of an attempt at a hostage taking... and I erred at deciphering _which ones_ were the hostage takers, since everyone had guns and looked objectively like tough guys. I supported the wrong party; in the end nobody killed anybody. Not thanks to me, but thanks to the butcher and citizens who were armed like soldiers."

His story could have stopped there if it wasn't for one last element he felt the need to relate:

"When going out at last, –I forgot my piece of bushmeat inside– I saw an unknown animal. Naturally, I followed it to the boutique of a fortune teller. She performed weird gestures with cards and begun by saying it's a miracle I am still alive. I agreed on that. I accidently set her desk on fire when pushing candles to the side to let her read the lines in my hands in order to predict my future."

As to prove a point, he wriggled his fingers in a comical manner.

"She kicked me out of her shop once I helped her extinguish the fire. Going out I spent a day chilling, getting into a street fight for a trouble about a broken snowglobe which I admit I am responsible for, and I had an adventure with a bartender. I thought she was hitting on me when in fact, she aimed to hire someone to babysit her devilish kid. I refused, that created a dispute with one of her colleagues. Oh and, I got attacked by a rat last night, when trying to be nice with it. Y'know, I gave it food and I tried to pet it... I ended up flying for my life. I would have called you today, turn out it's unnecessary. And now, here I am."

"... How come delirious stuff like that seem to happen to you _all the time?"_

"I have a gift! My mom says it's because I am a walking disaster: I attract problems, complications and unprecedented vagaries. Like a magnet. If you tag along with me, I promise you you'll never _ever_ get bored. Just remember you... probably won't be safe either, I warn so I won't have to take responsibilities."

Soon enough they both laughed like kiddos.

This Friday morning, Eddie took care of a... delivery, before changing to his Robin costume to walk around the blocks.

"Do you think I should send a card for mom and dad?", Steph had interrogated earlier this week. "Or a... phone call? A mail?"

"I tried the phone call already. It's... not very relevant."

He spoke to Crystal barely _minutes._ Even without inviting her and Art, he proposed they'd meet at the Christmas market during the holidays, so that Steph could spend an afternoon with her mother, and her father if Arthur joined.

None options survived that suggestion, Crystal responded for her husband and herself that insisting would be pointless.

"Don't expect a return from them.", Edward had made it transparent, gently but firmly for Stephanie not to be disappointed. "If you want to write a card nonetheless, that's a nice idea. I'd love to participate!"

That's what they did, they chose a pretty Christmas card, Steph wrote a simple message, saying she is happy and she hopes things are alright on their side. She wished them a merry Christmas, so did Ed; they inserted copies of recent photos featuring both of them and a box of Lindt assorted chocolates.

"You'll play mailman?", Stephie requested once they wrapped it up. "I... don't want to go to their house."

"I'm in charge of this.", he assured.

Edward put a kiss on her forehead.

"It's a good decision."

Stephanie smiled warmly.

"I think too! Sending stuff this period is the Christmas ambiance after all!"

Ed didn't see the Brown couple, none were home this Friday. He entered nevertheless (he kept his duplicate key...), attested the place is less of a mess than he feared, and placed the package on the low table after he _cleaned up_ living room and kitchen. He can't help it.

Alfred gave him the idea, he also brought something at his father's. Knowing Nashton was working today, he won't bear interacting with him. By the way, it feels _so good_ to use the appellation exclusively to qualify _his dad_ and no longer as his own, since Bruce had his last name legally changed into Nygma.

Ed seated a bottle on the kitchen countertop. The place _is_ in absolute disorder, but he didn't clean anything. Arthur and Crystal are... friends, or they _were,_ and they remain Stephanie's parents.

His father however, means nothing to him.

He was pleased though, to send him a gift, with its attached card on which he wrote a direct:

A little something for you.  
Merry Christmas, dad.  
\- Edward

This was a present his siblings, Alfred and him had fun making. They were laughing when taking an expensive scotch, the kind his birther could never afford himself. The bottle served during the Halloween gala hosted at Wayne Manor, it was nearly empty. They used the residual liquid in the kitchen, rinsed the inside of the bottle then filled it with clear water. Once corked back, anyone would believe it's the original alcohol inside.

Thinking of his father's face when he'll taste water after thinking he would gulp a luxury liquor counted among Ed's great Christmas gifts of the year.

Later on Friday, Hal was trying hard not to say what he has in mind.

They bought Mcdonald's meals for a noon break at... over 2 PM, perched on a small building's flat rooftop, their legs dangling from the edge of the roof. Eddie told him he has his end of afternoon and evening reserved.

They'll part ways after a break time which could have been normal if it wasn't for the obvious euphoria radiating from his partner.

Jordan observed the food Ed gripped and plunged in ketchup before bringing it to his mouth. Once he took another bite and Hal _giggled,_ Edward rolled his eyes under his domino mask.

"Do you _really_ want to make an inappropriate joke about me wearing the Robin uniform and eating chicken nuggets?" 

"Oh god yes. I really do."

"And there's... no way you'd repress this need?"

"None I'm afraid."

"... Then so be it. You are immature and aggravating. Go ahead, say it."

Hal jumped on the occasion, he hysterically formulated:

"Does it feel like cannibalism to devour one of your cousins coated with breadcrumbs?"

"It doesn't.", Eddie played along. "Since in truth, I am not a birdie: I'm a cat Bats dressed as a bird. That's why I can’t fly."

"That's actually so cool."

Afterwards Hal materialized a tiny domino mask with his ring, he applied it on a nugget at a strategical position.

"Aside from the fact the mask should be black instead of green, it looks like you."

Edward stared.

"Don't you notice an air of family? At this angle, it somehow looks aggressive yet cute. And in matter of personality, it's at the same time crispy / snarky and sweet! It fits! I like that, if I can't call you 'Chicken', then I'll opt for 'Chicken Nugget'."

"... You are _not_ calling me that."

"Try to stop me. Chicken Nugget."

In Edward's humble opinion, Hal _totally deserved_ to end up with ketchup spread on the side of his head. According to how Green Lantern guffawed and retaliated by throwing fries, this visibly amused him more than it vexed him.

They laughed some more as they engaged in a childish but intense fight with their Mcdonald's leftovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you had a wonderful Christmas Eve, and for today let me wish you a MERRY CHRISTMAS!! ;)  
> Love you guys! <3
> 
> (And yes, since they are not at Christmas day yet in this story, we'll stay in the ambiance for a couple more chapters ^^)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In for FLUFF. Mostly.  
> 

"I must go."

The young adult tried to hide his deception.

"Barbara, we... just arrived..."

"Sorry. I _really_ wanted to have dinner with you, only... something came up."

The Marine nodded, disappointed albeit resigned.

"I get it, don't worry. Will it sound desperate if I... propose we hang out next evening?"

"I thought being abandoned at the first date would cool you off."

"Let's not call it a first! More like a 'zero date' since nothing happened. Next time will be our first!"

"I like that."

They split, the solider way more patient than she expected. Batgirl found herself smiling, in a manner she hadn't since Dick and her broke up.

She met Jason Bard a few days ago. Classic setting: he seemed lost, asked for a specific shelf in the library she worked at. Molly Randall, who, with her, belongs to the main staff members, could have been the girl he spoke to, they were both at the reception at this moment. Yet nope, it had to be her.

She guided him to the shelves featuring Posidonia meadows; not a subject lots of people make researches about. She couldn't remember anyone interested in this.

They settled in a practically _desert_ portion of the library. He informed her he is a Marine, who feels blessed to enjoy Christmas holidays in the country after months in missions. Babs said her father is the Commissioner of the GCPD, so she is well-placed to get the feeling. One thing leading to another, they spent more time chatting than Jason Bard spent time reading.

When they returned to the office to register the books he'll borrow, Molly cast Babs that friendly look of 'he's hitting on you, girl!', what Barbara ignored... until she saw Bard writting his phone number on a post-it note.

He visited daily at the library from then. This evening should have been their first proper date, if it wasn't for... vigilante problems.

"It doesn't matter.", Edward restated.

"Say that to that poor girl!"

"It _doesn't_ matter. What matters is that you've done your best and..."

"And my best was not enough! I am _sick_ of these sort of games.", Barbara hissed angrily. "How come they contacted me directly?!"

"I don't know. We should review our communicators, their system seems _far too easy_ to track."

Ed was out as well this Sunday afternoon, he wanted to anticipate his psycho's next move. He met up with Hal again, the Lantern left for barely a few minutes when Babs called him this evening. He'll head back to Coast City, spend the holidays with his mother, his little brother and his older brother who made the 'effort' to stop by for Christmas.

"Your new buddy ruined my first date in _months."_

Robin wished she would have called sooner. Gotham is an oversized agglomeration, he was in a completely different area; moreover, she sent this message when things got _critical._

Apparently their killer kept Selina Kyle for next time. This game was supposedly made for Batgirl, putting Catwoman in the middle wouldn't have been... relevant?

Edward entered the restaurant, empty aside from the scheme setup and a... chocolate cake placed on a table, on which a bouquet of roses drew the shape of a giant heart. He crossed the room, aimed for the kitchen at the back... and didn't reach it: Barbara exited the doors in a hurry.

She didn't say a word, just grabbed his arm.

The restaurant had blown up before she told him anything about what happened.

They both left the scene, the noise attracted attention too quickly.

"Who was inside?", Ed inquired at last when they stepped aside.

"A woman."

She described her briefly. Not Linda Penman's wife, but the daughter in her twenties, whose father counted among the fake thugs list. When Ed asked if she heard, saw or noted anything that could be linked to Catwoman, she arched an eyebrow, and queried _what_ Catwoman has to do with this. Edward stayed evasive.

"You need a x-ray.", he appended, concerned. "Your wrist might be..."

"It would hurt more if it was broken.", she held her left wrist: she took off her glove to see the state of the skin, on which a worrisome bruise was growing. "I already got broken bones, so did you, I feel the difference between shocks and breaks."

"It could be _cracked.",_ he insisted. "Don't argue, I am not leaving you alone until I'm convinced you won't suffer complications."

"You're a doctor, now?"

"Somebody has to be!"

This wasn't what she foresaw, whereas Batgirl... sat behind Robin on his batmotorcycle. It may be smaller than hers, it's designed like any motorcycle, it has room for two persons on the seat.

Once at the Cave, Ed prepared the scanner in one of the 'medical rooms' located at a lower plateform below the control board.

"You're lucky there's nothing.", he concluded at last, once the sophisticated equipment rendered its verdict.

"Told you."

"Don't pretend, you weren't sure either."

They shared a smile.

Ed pointed to the ripped parts of her costume, a consequence from her trying to pray the cage holding the victim open without finishing the mastermind's game.

"Now that we're certain there are no internal damages, let me disinfect the cut and check the rest."

"I..."

"What are you wearing under your bodysuit?", he selected the appropriate material, and sent her an interrogative glance upon detecting her unease.

"... A bra."

"Then fine! I would get the hesitation if you were topless, while there the wound is on your _shoulder._ No issue."

This visibly wasn't working, Babs didn't move an inch from the sorta operation table on which she sat post x-ray in the medical chamber.

"You're Batgirl since you are eighteen years old. Don't tell me you've never been patched up by a boy?"

"Of course I have. But Dick was my _boyfriend,_ and Alfred has the role of a... family doctor. I've never been underdressed in front of Bruce."

"Want me to call Alfred? Because proposing you to put on a tee-shirt wouldn't be a clever solution given the location of the cut."

"... It's alright.", she acknowledged eventually. "Guess I'm... a bit worked up about what happened."

"Comprehensible."

It's rare that she fails a rescue, that feels... awfully wrong.

"If you want," Robin lighted the atmosphere, "I can remove my tunic and stitch your cut shirtless. So that we'd be even."

"... You won."

"Anyway it's not like I cared.", he joked as she carefully peeled off the upper part of her grey spandex suit. "Whether this pleases you or not, you _have_ your big sister figure in the team."

This is true, plus that reminded her contrary to Alfred, Bruce and Dick, Edward lives with girls. Steph is a child so it's not the same; even without entering into details however, she knows he lived at Crystal Brown's house and took care of her.

She didn't comment as Edward performed an expert stitching, bandaged her left shoulder, cleaned up the bruised areas, made sure these won't require more. He left whilst Babs dressed with clothes from the wardrobes in the Batcave.

"You're hurt?", Jason noticed, worried, when, after Robin belabored, Batgirl joined the kids in a living room of the Manor.

"Nothing severe. I am just... tired."

They clearly didn't get what 'tired' means in this context.

"I am tired to be Batgirl."

That... cast a chill.

"How can you say that?", Stephanie replied. "You are a hero!"

"The hero wanted to go on a date this evening, not to blow up, lose an hostage in the process. I... think I've given too much to the job, and didn't reserve enough for me."

She sighed, her hands around the steaming cup of tea Ed brought for her, letting out a sweet smell of jasmine and honey.

"I've been doing this for eight years. Maybe I want... a taste of normal life, for more than a few days without going on patrol, jumping in street fights, launching computer programs from the Batcave and arresting costumed maniacs."

"Don't talk about this tonight.", Edward advised. "You can't take a major decision while you are angry after a defeat where someone died and you got hurt. Take your time to think it through."

"... Words of wisdom you speak, little one."

She drank long gulps of her perfumed tea.

"It's not the first time I've been tossing and turning the idea in my head. If I take for New Year Resolution to slow the vigilante work down, it doesn't mean I'd store my costume forever. I'll only be... less present. I would answer if you need, but I won't be outside of my own will. At least for a transition period; I don't exclude a come back later, I simply... want to save more time for Barbara Gordon, and less for Batgirl."

"That's perfectly understandable."

Neither Jay nor Steph got how Babs could grow tired of being an icon, nevertheless... they respected her feeling. Furthermore, it's not like she'd quit being Batgirl from now on, she merely planned to reduce her investment.

Barbara spent the evening at Wayne Manor with the siblings and Alfred, in a cozy, wholesome ambiance. Exactly what she needed right now.

She didn't broach her doubts again, and no one conjured up the failed hostage rescue.

__________

"Bruce?"

From the main wheeled desk chair in front of the control board, the Bat addressed Robin a swift nod when the teen parked the motorcycle he claimed as his own, back from a thwarted scheme. Firefly, helped by a pyromaniac who was over the moon to be hired as a copycat of Garfield Lynns', sent their personal winter wishes, two days before Christmas Eve. They burned public ornaments across town, a scary spectacle for people walking in the streets where Christmas decorations ignited.

More fear than casualty, this event was more akin to a tasteless prank than to an attack. Congrats to Lynns and his new-found partner-in-crime, they obtained a ticket for Christmas at Arkham asylum.

Edward felt pleased the intervention didn't take more than over three hours in total. He has the end of afternoon and the evening free to enjoy time with his siblings, Alfred... and _Bruce,_ he met Batman when returning to the Cave.

"I'm so glad you're back!"

He walked toward him, stopped at a few centimeters from the chair, his arms slightly raised as if he wanted to hug him and refrained the gesture at last minute.

"When did you arrive?", he prompted, his hands joining and lowering as to hide his 'hug impulse', what, let's face it, Batman certainly perceived.

"About an hour ago."

He sounded more tired than ever.

"And I'm leaving tomorrow. The Mars problem is more serious than we suspected, J'onn J'onzz didn't evaluate how critical that was."

"You... you're leaving tomorrow?! But you just returned! You didn't even..."

Bruce shot him a 'no need to argue with me' glare.

Robin crossed his arms on his chest.

"You mean you won't be there for Christmas."

"... I would be lying if I told you I'll find a way. I will likely stay in the Watchtower then in Mars for... longer than planned."

The redhead was about to protest. Batman sighed, he tilted his head forward and pressed a hand on his closed eyes.

Internally, Edward shut his frustration to study him.

He hadn't removed his suit, solely the cowl, letting it dangle loosely on the back of his neck like a bat-shaped hood. The thick dark rings that brand his skin under his metallic blue eyes prove he didn't benefit of a sufficient resting time during his outer space mission. He seems pale, Ed could tell the difference between the Batcave's lighting and a proof he didn't bother taking care of himself over the last days. His hair is tousled, whereas the Knight always looks disheveled when taking off his cowl, this is more pronounced than normal. His entire aspect reflects a tremendous... self-neglect.

At least he didn't appear to be injured under his microfiber and spandex armor.

"Bruce?", Eddie asked in a much softer tone.

He waited for the Bat to meet his gaze again to pursue:

"When was the last time you slept?"

"... I did much worse.", he avoided the question.

Edward was not having it, he retorted in his 'mom voice':

"I believe you. I am not asking for a recap of every time you omitted to mind your health, I attested you tend to forget you are not a robot. Right now however? You're going to stand up, remove your costume, you kept it for too long, it deserves a break too. Your imposed schedule for the incoming hours is to: take a shower, come with me in the kitchen to have a snack, rest in your room over the remaining afternoon time. You'll join for the evening."

Batman smiled, exhausted though genuinely amused by his sidekick's dedication to treat him like a kid.

"You are supposed to be the child and I the adult in charge, not the other way around."

"On this point, we are _both_ moody teenagers who nurture a strong tendency to overreact, pout and make a whim when a situation displeases us. Except for me it's receivable given the fact I am _of age_ to be a moody teenager, while you are a grown man stuck in a perpetual adolescent crisis. This being said, none of us is _the_ adult in charge in this place: that role belongs to Alfred."

"Very true."

They shared a complicit smile.

"I see you're doing good.", Batman pointed to the bat-motorcycle Eddie used for the past days via a movement of his square chin. "Robin handles Gotham when the Bat is away?"

"I try.", he responded sincerely.

He couldn't decipher what Batman knows and what he ignores... like the fact his cat-girlfriend is missing, prisoner at the hands of a madman obsessed with flowers. In all likelihood, Bruce wasn't aware of this 'detail', otherwise he wouldn't compliment him.

"I hope you'll find a better title for next interview Victoria Vale leads with you.", the Bat mirrored the teasing.

So he read the article published by Gotham News, that gives the investigation away. The episode of Thomas and Martha Wayne's graves and Selina Kyle's disappearance weren't mentioned there.

"You know me, I will suggest a dashing title.", he smirked. "Something that will highlight my bravery, cleverness and optimal abilities to be a detective."

Bruce shook his head fondly.

"I must check a few things; then I promise, I'll come upstairs."

"Can I see? About... Mars Attacks?"

This made them both laugh.

"That's it," the Bat declared, "this incident is officially renamed 'Mars Attacks!' in my brain, I will no longer refer to it differently."

"As long as Tim Burton didn't predict our future, we should be fine."

Bruce didn't relaunch. He may take the time to joke, no doubt he _is_ worried.

"It's not the first time you handle aliens.", Ed tried to reassure him, even if he doesn't have enough elements to formulate a dedicated soothing speech. "It's... literally why you created the Justice League in the first place! To _fight extraterrestrials._ Starro the Conqueror learned his lesson, I bet others met the same fate."

That earned a satisfied expression from the Bat.

"Did you peruse the Batcomputer's files, or were you aware of this before we met?"

"Long before we met! This story is a legend, it's featured in comic books and in some American middle school programs. Don't you gauge how popular you are?"

"I... realized. Truth be told, contrary to Clark who feels delighted about it, I don't get the... relevance of all this mediatization."

"Well for once, listen to Clark! I totally agree with him. They're making dolls of me, I even saw stylish notebooks with my photo printed on the cover. Next step is snowglobes, all kind of accessories, kids wearing my version of the Robin costume next Halloween... It's thrilling."

They chuckled.

"I'll show you if I need you on this.", Bruce discarded when Edward renewed his willingness to learn more about Mars Attacks. "In the mean time, you have Gotham to watch over. It's not an easy job, don't pollute your mind with complications in another planet when Barbara and you are the current vigilantes in town."

"I understand."

After all, he did the same: he won't notify Bruce of Kyle's disappearance, the fact a maniac knows his identity and the novelty being that Babs thinks of storing her uniform in the closet. No need to add sources of stress when Batman has urgent problems to deal with.

"It doesn't change a thing to today's program. You take a rest and you spend the evening with us. _Even more_ if you'll leave for days afterwards."

"It's a fair deal."

Robin aimed for the elevator, leaving him to his last checks. Ed took a few steps, paused, then turned back to watch the Bat, whom focused on the screens, his tired gaze riveted on an open file.

Edward achieved his aborted gesture of earlier when he hurried toward him again and, before Bruce had a say in the matter, _hugged him_ on his left side.

An initial second of surprise later, Bruce leaned into the embrace, his cheek resting on the ginger hair and his right hand holding the arm that wrapped loosely around his neck.

"I'm glad you're back.", Eddie repeated. "Even if it's just for a day. It feels... weird, not to have you around in your own home. I hope you won't leave for long."

"I hope too."

They stayed like that a handful of seconds; thereupon they parted, following the established schedule.

Bruce emerged earlier than Edward expected. Ed made him eat a tuna sandwich when he exited the Batcave, he had changed to a comfy jogging from the wardrobes in the Cave and taken a shower in the bathrooms down there, as his wet hair indicated. The break time he saved wasn't enough to 'rest', he disappeared in his bedroom barely over an hour, he most likely lied down without falling asleep.

Eddie didn't complain. As long as Bruce reserved a long night of sleep, it's not necessary for him to nap in the afternoon.

The children in holidays means more time at home; when they plan days outside it's to go somewhere like their –hilarious– ice skating expedition on Saturday.

The afternoon went in a sweet atmosphere.

"Look how pretty dat is!"

Jason gave the owner of the place a tour guide of the Christmas decorations they installed, most in their favorite living room, others in the giant kitchen and in a few rooms.

Bruce played along, with the typical enthusiasm of a parent who gets involved in things, even ordinary, their children introduce with pride like a personal accomplishment.

They baked cakes for the evening. The paste waited in the fridge, ready to be used.

"We must make Christmas-shaped biscuits!", Stephanie announced.

"I take up the challenge.", the Bat approved whilst Alfred took the three large bowls, of cinnamon, chocolate and orange-flavoured pastes he arranged on the table.

Bruce rarely participated to kitchen activities. He helped Alfred at sparse occasions, when the butler created meals he reckoned his protégé would have fun cooking.

Today he agreed to the double mission:

Mission 1 = make suitable shapes with the paste on the platters, which will be placed in the oven. Thankfully, molds could help in their task. Regardless, the kids found amusing to try forms outside the Christmas tree and booble molds.

Mission 2 = draw the prettiest frosting on the biscuits once they'll be removed from the oven.

They made enough paste to nourish a regiment of infantry, those will serve for Christmas Eve, Christmas day... and more.

They sat at the wooden table of the kitchen (furnitures _are_ oversized in this mansion, the siblings never fail to find that amusing), the bowls of paste in the middle and them in charge of a plate each for batches of little cakes.

Edward frowned at Bruce's plate during the making. Batman wasn't using the molds.

"Why are yours actually perfect?"

"Alfred is not the only one who designs our equipment.", the Bat boasted.

Eddie huffed. He loved cooking, always succeeded at making tasty creations and having these look elegant. Nonetheless, he is not an 'artist' in the drawing / painting / sketching field, the contrast appears against Bruce's plate, Alfred's too whom, as for him, draws like a professional.

Stephanie and Jason's creative skills aren't especially subtle either. Be that as it may, Jay found an excuse to mock Bruce's stylish paste shapes:

"We said _Christmas-themed._ And there ya are, makin' batarang biscuits."

"That's the shape I do the best.", the billionaire defended himself. "You'll see, it will be 'Christmas-themed' with the icing: I'll decorate in red and white instead of black and grey."

"Still, can you try doin' something else than da bat-emblem?"

"I can."

Therefore, Bruce ended up with a _Batmobile_ orange biscuit on his plate.

What, needless to say, made everyone laugh.

They put on a playlist, as a background noise when decorating the cakes once those baked in the oven.

Stephanie attested that saddly, she didn't let enough space on the parchment paper: the lower part of her plate blended as one massive cinnamon biscuit in place of various small shapes. Jason had a similar problem with two of his chocolate cakes what melted together, at the center of his platter.

"They are Siamese twins.", he qualified what should have been a boxed gift and a beanie.

An existential question lingered: how come Alfred successfully made complex figures such as reindeers, a sleigh and multiple angels, looking as gorgeous as if he used a mold?

They had a rainbow of frostings, tiny sugar balls and other edible accessories at disposal.

These decorations landed on the biscuits at first (Bruce kept his word: strictly Coca-Cola colors to decorate his creations). Then, this is a logical continuation, Jason 'accidentally' pressed the tube of green icing he wanted to apply on a chocolate fir too forcefully, it... sprayed on Edward's face. Steph and him guffawed, Ed wiped the sugary liquid with a tissue. Alfred and Bruce didn't bet Eddie would riposte by scattering edible glitters all over Jason's hair.

"There, you're beautiful. Like a fairy.", he jested with a false serious glance, the pink and silver sequins shining on Jay's dark hair.

"So ya take it like dat, Ginger..."

No biscuits were harmed during the following frosting fight, only hairs suffered, particularly Stephanie and Edward's since they offer more surface to get colored by glitters, icing, sweets and everything else on this table.

As for the tops they wore, due to their battle the shirts won a one-way fare for the washing machine.

Edward and Alfred cleaned the kitchen efficiently before going on with the evening, once they changed to sugar-free clothes and removed residual substances from their hair. They had a good time, prolonged over the evening by board games after dinner.

It was relatively late when someone (what a dreadful suspense: it's... either Bruce or Alfred) knocked at Jason's, seeing the light from under the door and hearing noises coming from his bedroom.

"Come in!"

Bruce entered, revealing the usual sight of the three of them nested under the blankets, Edward between the kids, reading a story. Batman smiled. They are so adorable.

"I'm... stopping by to say good night."

In itself, this wasn't an alibi: the five of them wished each other good night when the younger ones left the living room, went back to their corridor, brushed their teeth and carried on with the evening ritual.

"It was very nice.", Bruce complemented, sheepish.

He wished he wasn't getting back to work. Ed identified seamlessly that he searched a way to apologize since they won't reiterate the experience tomorrow, Bruce planned to return to the Watchtower around the middle of afternoon.

"Come over there!", Jason invited, the three of them detecting the Bat's guilty feeling. "Wanna listen to da story?"

"I... don't want to impose."

"You won't 'impose' in _your house,_ Bats.", Edward reassured in a patient manner. "Those beds are ridiculously large and comfortable for a reason, they must serve to cuddle in _group."_

Bruce complied, a bit... was he shy? Now that was funny.

Jason summarized the beginning of the story; between his big brother and the bat who laid on his left.

"Sounds cool.", Bruce nodded although he obviously wasn't interested by the plot, just... feeling grateful he was allowed to stay.

It... feels good. To be there with them.

Bruce half-listened to Edward's showman voice, who invariably morphed stories into stage plays, Stephanie's cheerful remarks and Jason's 'noises' as he decided to impersonate the dragon of the story by imitating Darth Vader's respiration.

"He is... sleeping?", Jaybird blinked, after Ed shut the book.

Bruce hasn't been talkative over the story, but they were used to him staying silent when in 'listening mode'. Too into their theatre act, they didn't notice the reason he wasn't commenting is because he... closed his eyes and _passed out_ on the bed next to them.

"He prob' was really tired.", Stephie inferred from Edward's right.

Ed smiled at Batman's relaxed facial expression and regular breathing specific of serene slumber.

"In fact it's not adopted children Bats is looking for, but a _mummy_ who would read him stories to put him to bed."

The kids giggled quietly, cautious not to wake him up.

Edward brushed a few strands of short black hair out of their eldest's forehead. Bruce didn't react at the touch, just let out a pleased sigh.

"I wonder if he... slept at all over the past days.", Eddie whispered, the three of them strangely mesmerized by the view, like characters in fairytales when they come across a sleeping dragon.

Sure they lived here for months, yet... they hadn't _seen_ Batman asleep so far. They never entered his bedroom when he slept late on the morning, never caught him napping in an armchair either.

Right now, he was somehow... cute.

"Let's not disrupt him.", Stephanie concluded. "Jason, you're squatting with me tonight?"

"Yup! I have a bat in my bed."

Albeit there are _bunch_ of bedrooms in the Manor, they didn't think of going to another corridor.

They exited the bed from Steph's side, not making jerky movements. Edward silently placed the story book on the bedside table. Before they left, he... flipped the blankets to cover Bruce's body, what didn't provoke any reaction.

They turned off the lights and silently closed the door behind them.

Eddie put a kiss on each their forehead once his chicks nested in the, equally way too large and comfy bed, in Steph's bedroom. His children were sleeping minutes later; Ed crossed the corridor, he opened the door facing Jason's, leading to his own bedroom.

His smile was still printed on his lips when he fell asleep.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ha Ha Ha  
> (Yes that's my actual, self-explanatory summary for this chapter.)

Due to the frigid atmosphere, Edward's breath turned into a cloud of smoke when he exhaled. He vainly tried to warm up by rubbing his arms with his gloved hands, what... didn't fight the teeth-shattering cold.

His 'winter version' of the Robin costume is adapted, the long sleeves and thicker material for the tunic and the pants studied to keep his body heat better than any woolly jumper, without hobbling his gestures. Notwithstanding this, his uniform is more accurate when in situations of _action;_ it didn't... help much right now, trapped in an underground wine cellar whilst the December weather recorded drastic temperature drops.

"Why won't you come OVER, Kittybird?"

Ed won't probably ever get used to the tone, that spoke softly then _screamed_ a word or some letters in a sentence, making everyone startle.

He had _no intention_ to walk to the other extremity of the space, he hoped the man won't stand up to join his side of the cave.

"K-Kittybird?", he quoted though, focused on controlling the cold-induced shaking of his voice.

In the semi-darkness of the room lighted by a weak blue neon tube, one out of three working, Edward discerned the growing curve of the rogue's smile.

"Aren't you awARE? That's your name IN the Underworld!"

"You guys renamed me like... a mutant version of a petshop toy?"

This parodied analysis made the villain _laugh,_ what a surprise. When isn't Joker laughing...?

At least his outburst didn't last, the frantic sound cooled off as he answered the question:

"I am the one who found that NAME!"

"... Thank you then sir, for your heartwarming dedication."

Not replying to the sarcasm, the clown specified:

"Catlady called you a 'kitten' the first time we DIScussed about YOU during a meeting. Since Batsy made you a _birdie,_ this CAUSED food for debate! I adjudicated the matter."

" _Wonderful._ "

Edward looked up once more, in an idle attempt at figuring a way out.

Like any wine cellar, this cave opens to _one_ access: stairs leading to the ground floor of the manor house. As both Joker and himself checked, the rubble that clogged the entry, poured heavy blocks on the stairs, were unmovable with the tools they have at disposal. Could he hope for a secret passage lurking behind a shelf of red wine bottles? With a bit of luck, Bruce isn't the sole rich Gothamite who constructed a cavernicolous house extension.

As for... what was he, in fact, _doing here the 24 of December?!_

Traditional starting point in vigilante occupation: complications begun by a call, this time from Gordon in one of his communicators whilst Jason, Stephanie, Alfred and him fulfilled the preparation of tonight's Christmas Eve dinner.

"You must come back on time!", Stephie warned after he assured the Commissioner he's on his way.

"Will do! I wouldn't miss this evening."

Edward put a kiss on the top of her head prior heading for the Batcave, determined not to sacrifice his night for work: tonight is celebration time. Bruce not being present is already a huge discontentment, he won't imitate his mentor on this.

"I hope this is important. I want to be home for Christmas Eve."

"Same there.", the older redhead agreed.

Gordon hadn't said a word about Vicki Vale's article. No doubt he must be upset about it, albeit he cared for the bats-and-birds sufficiently to forgive their case-related mistakes. So far, this Robin is much better than the previous one at keeping things bottled; his predecessor was too talkative on an extended range of subjects while not possessing detective skills. It provoked _lots_ of setbacks over the years, what the Commissioner never held against him.

The main difference is Vale's interim; this boy is the first of the police and vigilante forces to voluntarily _require her assistance,_ not have her write texts on his investigations behind his back, what she does for... everyone else. Jim hoped he knew what he was doing, whereas he wouldn't stop him from taking decisions.

It has always been his role too, to watch over those kids.

"You want me to do an infiltration mission?", Robin inferred, skeptical. "Why can't the GCPD take care of this?"

"We don't have the right to barge in without a search warrant, _even less_ at the property of people who... don't look favourably upon police actions."

"Polite manner," Edward jeered, "to remind the Falcones are famous _crime bosses_ who don't even hide their illegal business, well aware no one would do anything against them in this city."

Jim validated via a movement of the head. As he notified Robin, he received an explicit warning at his office, he memorized the untraceable phone call: _"When the clock strikes midnight, the Italian Pearl dies at their home after a final dance in the middle of the ball"_ , what he effortlessly associated with the Christmas Eve event in their residence. Falcone Senior spent the night in his luxury yot, he allowed his adult daughters and son Sofia, Carla and Mario to host a reception in his absence.

This didn't resemble a prank or a false alert: Gordon had scooped up an envelope filled with photographs of the Falcone Mansion and the emblematic family members, all pages stained with drops of blood, a bullet and locks of dark hair saved in the paper kraft. Forensics couldn't decipher if the blood and hair were Falcones', but an expert identified the bullet: it comes from the colt of a, to this day, free hitman who takes one or two jobs per year. He or she, the police never caught them, uses a rather unique type of bullet, moreover they add their _own_ trademark sign to it: a hand-engraved owl with two tiny emeralds featuring the bird's round eyes, the precious stones imbedded directly onto the flat back of the bullet.

The GCPD never communicated these details or the existence of this killer they nicknamed 'The Owl', this couldn't be a copycat. Someone hired Owl to take down a Falcone at their residence, and sent a snide warning to the police a few hours before the cutoff date of 'midnight'.

"Not that I appreciate them, far from it. Thugs who run _my_ town by being the main figures of the mob are not people I'd defend out of the goodness of my heart. However, if something happened to a Falcone family member.", Jim belabored, worried lines mapping his forehead. "That could ignite a gang war, and I am _not_ letting that occur."

"I don't want to live one either. Now, how am I supposed to enter the Falcone Mansion? This place is reputed to be nearly as secured as Area 51. I've never been inside.", he clarified, in case Gordon counted on an antecedent knowledge of his. "Neither Robin nor my civilian self."

Dick and Barbara penetrated the residence because of the job. When invited, Dick and Bruce went a couple of times, for upper class receptions like the one organized tonight.

Eddie's sidekick tasks didn't imply the Falcone or Maroni families yet, aka the central faces of the mob; as for galas Bruce collected an invitation geared towards him and his wards to attend this ball... what Edward declined for him. They wanted to spend their first Christmas Eve together in a family ambiance, not doing small talks and risible jokes in a reception.

This plan becomes increasingly compromised every passing minute...

"Get me a list of the guests."

"Done. There you go, tell me if I must contact someone."

Eddie browsed through the names.

"I handle this.", Robin spotted someone in the list. "I'll call you if needed; in the mean time, you can go back to your apartment prepare Christmas Eve."

The policeman seemed grateful.

"Even if the police coming to the Falcone house is a scenario that must be avoided, I prefer being the origin of an incident than letting you put yourself in danger.", he pledged nevertheless, in his strong, warm voice. "I'll be ready to intervene."

"Thank you."

Dear old Commissioner, forever here to help.

Edward called home when racing on his bat-motorcyle.

 _"Tell us ya're on yar way back.",_ Jason spoke for the three inhabitants of Wayne Manor. _"We're waintin' for you."_

"I _just left._ Even if it had been an easy intervention, I wouldn't have rounded it off so soon.", he opposed patiently, although touched by his little brother's frustration of not having him around. "I'm afraid this might take a bit long, but see the upside: you will participate. Listen closely. You two must go to the Batcave, open the 'Falcone Family' file, same place as where the rogues and mobsters dossiers are archived."

His kids know where the file is stored, they have unrestricted access to this part of the database Bruce introduced to the three of them.

"When you'll find it," he pursued, "select the document called 'House Data'. You should see a detailed schematic of the Falcone Mansion, and a map of the cameras as Barbara noted them last time she broke in the house. Some may have changed, most informations should be identical. I regret I didn't take the time to read this file, otherwise I would have kept what it contains in mind. I simply know it _exists,_ with it you'll be able to guide me."

 _"Roger dodger!",_ Stephanie responded proudly, Edward heard the kids running across the corridors to a passage for the Batcave.

"Take your time to get the file, call me back when you have it. I'll wait for your assent to launch the intervention."

He counted on Alfred to keep an eye on them, and he... trusted them to get the job done.

Wait, he 'trusted them to get the job done'?! _Why_ was he _hiring them_ like a... captain giving orders to soldiers? This is _not_ what they are, not how Ed wanted the three of them to interact, not...

He forced himself not to overthink. Not now. To distract himself from potential self-blaming, he achieved his second call, still driving across town to his destination.

"Hello Miss Vale. Is someone listening to you?"

 _"I am at a reception, Mike.",_ she picked up, stepping disturbingly easily into the role of an accomplice (yes, she saved Robin's number under 'R' in her contacts, and Ed has recourse to a special phone he keeps in his yellow belt pouches to contact allies under his vigilante identity). _"I told you I won't stop by this evening."_

Translation: she is in the hall; she likely stepped aside from the crowd to speak.

"Quick briefing: Gordon received a warning concerning the Falcones. Sofia, Mario or Carla is the target. I believe the attack would come from a guest, plus that a mechanism has been installed in the mansion. I'm glad you're inside."

 _"You should have realized sooner you forgot your laptop at my place. That I gave you a key to my apartment doesn't mean you can stop by when I am not here.",_ she whispered in a perfect infuriated tone, mindful of someone overhearing. _"Moreover, my building is secured: there's a guardian and a security code at the entry hall."_

"I have a relatively recent map of the house.", he understood her implicit warning for him to be cautious. "I intend to do the 'side job': find the traps and thwart them, not barge in at the gala itself. That's why I'd appreciate you watch over the Falcones."

_"We can see each other tomorrow if you want. I'll keep an eye on your computer when I come back, nothing will happen to it over the night."_

They ended the communication, Edward smirking. He loved this woman.

One last call, then Eddie parked his motorcycle. Arriving by the road wouldn't be smart. Arriving in batplane wouldn't work either, too conspicuous.

But arriving by the airs in a small, non-mechanical gear at night will be harder, impossible he hoped, to detect. So... Christmas Eve or not, he got Kite-Man's immediate approval to suit up his costume, which he upgraded with materials Ed had provided him to encourage Brown developing more efficient versions of his attire.

__________

"I shouldn't be there."

Edward's verdict summarized the situation pretty well. Entering the Falcone Mansion? Check, with Kite-Man's adapted device and Stephanie and Jason's guidance, it revealed itself easier than he suspected. Making himself invisible in the manor house was not a hardship either: Carmine Falcone brought his bodyguards in his yot to party, and most of the security staff present tonight stayed outside to prevent unwanted cars from reaching the parking, they weren't inside searching for elements that would perturb the evening.

"What are we looking for?", Chuck had murmured, walking behind Robin.

Among his uniform improvements, the engineer managed to have his kite retracting in a sort of backpack fixed on his back.

"Something strange."

"I saw an enormous painting of two elephants wearing bowties, helding coconut cocktails in their trunk, dansing polka on a glass table in the middle of a pink desert lighted by two grey suns in a green sky, in the bedroom from where we broke in. Is that strange?"

"It... surely is. Though not the kind of strange that interests us."

They hadn't progressed much when Vicki called back:

_"Sofia left the reception."_

Given her low whisper and the fact she used one of the targets' name, she must feel in a secured position not to risk being spied on.

"With someone?"

_"Two guests who arrived early at the party. Carter Nichols and Thomas Elliot."_

Eddie frowned.

"What about the other Falcones?"

_"Carla brags with the engagement ring Felice Vitti gave her when he proposed, that must cost the GDP of a small country. Mario waddles in the middle of a flock of way-too-young-to-be-so-scantily-clad girls. As if buying expensive fabric implies reducing a dress to its bare essentials covering abilities."_

Not commenting on this, Ed approved:

"Alright. Stay in the hall, tell me if they leave as well. I'm dealing with Sofia and her prince charmings."

Vicki indicated the door by which she exited the room, what, thanks to his map, Edward identified. It shouldn't be complicated to...

"Get inside!", he urged his acolyte, noises coming their direction in the corridor.

They hurried to open a door, closed it behind them in synchronization just before a group passed by.

"... Robin?"

"Not now.", he dismissed Kite-Man.

It angered him not to get what they were saying. Is speaking Italian a selection criterion for people working at the Roman's?!

"Robin!", Charles insisted, pulling his yellow cape at the level of his left shoulder.

Edward turned around at last... and blinked under his domino mask.

"Is this... an habitual indoor decor in a rich mobster family house?"

"How would I know?", the ginger retorted.

Sarcasm aside, they took a few steps in. It was not 'scary', more like... odd. Who has a giant collection of Church stained glass windows and places them, instead of _on windows,_ in a huge room? Said space looks like a dance classroom, each wall covered of mirrors and a wooden transversal bar at the level of the hip. Visibly, no dancers trained there in a while: most square centimeters of the room are occupied by raised up colorful glasses, supported by solid base plates keeping them standing straight.

"There's a door on the other side.", Chuck reported.

Edward hesitated. The corridors may seem an easier option, they could stumble upon more persons and jeopardize their incognito presence here.

"Fine. Careful not to break anything."

The space between each stain-glassed window is adequate to walk, still... this made Edward feel awkward. As if the Saints, angels and figures _judged him,_ trying to... make him feel bad. He wanted to shout out loud "okay I know I shouldn't be there, but neither should you!"

What were works of art doing here? Buying stained windows isn't unoriginal in itself, it's having so many stocked... here, that is questionable. Could these pieces be smuggling ring merchandises? Clandestine networks prevail for everything, in Gotham and elsewhere: drugs, prized objects, religious items, mass weapons, surgery for illegal body modifications, animals, humans (although that one, the most expensive, becomes rarer, difficult to implant in towns)... It's no secret the Roman owns a high share of the mob in this city, his family certainly orchestrates trades in every category.

"I find that _creepy.",_ Chuck shared his sentiment. "The way those glasses are stored in a... room, not showcased or appropriately utilized as windows or decorative components."

"Agree. I don't like this either."

Under hundreds of painted eyes, they opened the door at the endpoint of the large rectangular space.

Radical change of scenery: they discovered a, while oversized, for the rest _ordinary_ office. The dimensions of the spaces were logged in the Batcomputer, not the _function_ associated to each room.

"You heard this?"

"Shhh.", Eddie ordered, moving to the door at the end of this office.

They pressed their left ear against the door, in a comical gesture, curious over the subject of this obvious _dispute._

"There is something I despise even more than freakshows.", a deep woman's voice echoed –Sofia Falcone's? While Ed heard her speak in reportings, he never met her in person, he couldn't be sure–. "Can you guess what it is? It's _thieves."_

"PLEASE.", a, as for it, _sadly familiar_ outraged voice complained. "I am not a ranDOM THIEF."

"What were you doing here?"

"... Stealing.", Joker acknowledged. "See the positive side, DOLL: now you can hate at the saME level freakshows WHO steal."

"Get rid of this garbage.", the woman menaced through gritted teeth.

"It's the Joker... We cannot..."

"My brother Alberto had an 'affinity' for the Gotham City circus to the point he _became_ a _member._ It's a vile weakness I do not share. I don't care who he pretends to be, _my family_ owns the heart of this town, it does not belong to a poorly-dressed, gross laughing clown. Next time, bother me for a meaningful problem. Now, gentlemen," she addressed back to Elliot and Nichols, "where were we?"

They heard her heels leaving the room, followed by footsteps from her two men of the moment.

"Go back in the corridor.", Edward demanded quietly to Kite-Man. "Try to see where they head to."

"What about you?"

"I'm getting Joker. I want to know what that idiot is doing there, I don't believe he is the one who sent warnings, this is... not his style. Guess for once, he's there at the wrong time at the wrong place. Go ahead, be prudent, I join you soon."

Chuck didn't ask for more, he granted Eddie a quick nod, eager to prove he can be useful.

"Don't do anything against ME.", Joker _purred_ in an awfully honeyed intonation. "You know it cannot end well for you if you TRY to harm the Prince of Crime."

"Didn't you hear the boss?", a woman countered. "You circus freaks have no power here. We have no reason to be scared of you."

"That's where you are wrong, Milady. Do you feel so bold you'd PUSH your LUCK?"

"Alright, that's enough."

Edward admitted, he _could have_ come up with a more catchy pick-up line.

To his credit, he listened to a sufficient dose of cliché-like warnings for a Christmas Eve. Time to put an end to this masquerade...

What, clearly, didn't go as planned.

An _alarm_ shrilled, it... activated a trap on the floor. It opened, as if by chance, under Joker's feet, making three of the five 'guards' fall with him. In the general confusion, the two others followed, so did Robin who kept on his 'wait, I must intervene!' reflex.

This revealed itself not to be a proper a trap, but _stairs_ leading to one of the wine cellars of the house. It's a known fact the Italian family is a major wine consumer, on the blueprints Jason observed five distinct wine cellars across the mansion. If this alarm means 'danger' coming from elsewhere in the property, it's logical the undergroud spaces automatically open for the family to hide inside.

Nobody knew how to apprehend this. Robin and the two staff members on the stairs jumped out of their skin when a turmoil reverberated above their heads: the ceiling... collapsed. To throw themselves down and therefore, escape the stairs to land on the ground floor of the cave allowed them not to be pulped by the blocks falling on the steps.

Edward coughed, the rocks created a thick cloud of dust in the ambient air. He stood back up as fast as he could, turned around... and before he got to react, in precise, deadly movements, Joker grabbed the firearm one of the guards held then _shot dead_ the four guys. He took a knife out of his belt to cut the five one's throat who barely had the time to try punching in his direction. Wow. Even not the first time Joker substantiates he is a scarily skilled _killer_ , this demonstration made Edward shiver. The clown threw the weapon to the ground, _laughing._

"Think we can MOVE these rubble and get OUT?", he challenged a petrified little Robin. "Not that I don't ENJOY your company, sweetie pie, but I am awAITED elsewhere, I don't have ALL night!"

They soon realized trying to budge the stones is irrelevant, and after successive hysterical calls, Edward came to terms with the fact his phone, communicator or any device didn't work to send a message or alert someone. They were underground, it's normal a standard phone doesn't function, like when taking the subway. Be that as it may, the bat-equipment is conceived to be effective no matter the environment; if it isn't working there, it means this wine cellar is not ordinary. May it is designed like a bunker? Walls reinforced with metal or more could explain a shield around the reception.

Perhaps there is an adjacent room opening to this one...?

Joker tried to reach his lieutenant as well, without success. Edward hoped Kite-Man hadn't gotten into a fight in the mean time. They weren't hearing the alarm anymore, albeit it's difficult to tell if this is because it shut or due to the rubble blocking sounds both ways.

One thing leading to another... here they were.

"Me neither.", Joker appended to Ed's 'I shouldn't be there' deadpan conclusion, bringing the teenager back onto the present moment. "I was in for an Hanukkah CELEbration this evening."

Edward tilted his head up. Could he... have grasped a pre-Joker element?

"Are you Jewish?"

He couldn't remember reading links between the Prince of Crime and religion anywhere on Arkham files concerning the clown. Then again, the doctor who could have pierced, recorded and written his secrets down vanished alongside with the entire content of her therapy sessions when she... escaped with him and became his partner a bit under four months ago.

Unequivocally, giving a personal information away figured not in his plans:

"Nope! HARLEY is, so I go for the Jewish holiday. I even learned Hanukkah songs to make her a surprise!"

"That's... thoughtful?", Edward outlined, unsure how to interpret the psychopath's investment.

That made him _laugh._ Harleen Quinzel must be _patient,_ to hold conversations with someone who laughs frenetically every ten minutes or so even when there's _no reason_ to do so.

"Apparently I am TOO nice! Proof is: I am stuck in a baseMENT with Kittybird!"

"What were you doing here, anyway?"

"Fulfilling my bag of presents! I packed a beautiful DRESS, an overpriced perfume bottle, a giant red HAMMER, more stylish than her PREvious one, a pair of trendy boots and a knife whose handle is inlaid with precious STONES. I needed one last idea to complete my LIST, I would have FOUND it today at this RECEption: a diamond jewelry set with necklace and earrings."

Robin wasn't expecting the 'I-learned-songs-to-show-my-right-hand-woman-I-care', he even less predicted the 'I-engaged-a-fortune-to-make-her-overestimated-presents'.

"I wanted to play the WHOle deal!", the rogue claimed with pride. "Wanna know how?"

"Go ahead, I'm... interested to discover more about your shopping."

As long as Joker stayed in 'talking mood' he won't attack, so... better foster his willingness to narrate this tale. The rogue appeared joyful he was allowed to pursue.

"Very WELL! Listen to the story: first I took her measurements for the dress, then I went to a specialized boutique, had the seller give me the MOST flawless piece of her creations, in exchange of what I DIDN'T kill her and said I'll recommEND her work. It has been fun to decide which PERfume I'd buy. With henchmen, I intercepted a delivery truck in its way to a perfumery, entered the vehicle, opened cardboard boxes and DESTroyed the bottles I didn't like until I found the perfect one: a Coco Chanel. Pretty name pretty round shape, and divine scent!"

"I saw this incident on the routine news two weeks ago. It wasn't mentioned as one of your attacks, it referred to 'an obscure gang'."

"I wore a full-face mask and nothing CLOWN-RELATED that day! I didn't want my Harley to suspect I robbed a fragrance van, otherWISE she could have guessed it's one of her GIFTS!"

"... That makes _so much sense."_

Why was he even bothering...?

"NEXT!", the jester went on, too cheerful. "The hammer was an Internet order. LuCKIly it arrived on time."

"You... place online orders?"

"We live in the twenty-first century! I just use a FAKE IDentity and someone ELSE than me handles the receipt."

There was something hilarious in the vision of Joker in front of a computer, scrolling through Wish or Amazon to find items.

"So in fact, the hammer is the only gift you paid, you stole the rest?"

"Not quite! I indeed stole the boots too, but honESTLY nobody noticed: I went at night in a shoe shop, took what I WANted and left. No further daMAGES, I saw from magazines what Harley wanted. I paid the knife, it was tailor-made! Command to Maxie Zeus, he has a subtle eye for detail, he makes GREAT weapons. NaturaLLY, I had stolen the stones I wanted him to incorporate in the shaft. What I paid is the ARTISAN WORK."

"And the jewelry?"

"I plannED on askING nicely lady Beatriz da Costa when she would have walked to her car after her SON called and urged her to come back to her house. I scheduled the sequence: she wears it every time she is filmed when going to a recePTION, she must have it tonight. It's Christmas, she would give it to ME without a FIGHT! And if not then TOO BAD, I will clean blood from the diamonds. I can't allow stains on my darling's presents."

"You are such a gentleman."

What triggered a _wave_ of laughters, longer than the previous ones.

Edward sighed.

When his teeth shattering made a significant grinding, Joker jumped to his feet as if he suddenly had springs in his converse shoes. Ed startled, his hand instinctively wrapping around his phaser. The rogue wasn't paying attention to him; humming, he hopped enthusiastically toward the bodies. He grabbed one corpse, rolled it to the side, unzipped its coat.

"What are you doing...?"

"Taking care of YOU!"

He collected the five jackets then headed back toward Robin, a victorious expression drawn onto his features.

Edward stared at the pile of clothing Joker let fall to the ground a few feet from him.

"To KEEP you WARM!"

"I am _not_ wearing garments taken from dead people you killed less than an hour ago.", he rejected, categorical.

Joker smiled again; he crouched down in front of Ed.

Whereas he maintained a respectable distance, the teen felt uncomfortable, his hold on the handle of his firearm tightened.

"You _are.",_ he affirmed as if he didn't hear Robin's statement. "I can SELEct three that have less blood on them if you want."

"That doesn't matter, I would not..."

"Let's do this!"

Joker seized a coat, scanned it as he would to examine a product in a supermarket. In the end he retained the three less blood-stained garbs. One was clean aside from a few drops, from the man who took a bullet in his head. Another (from the one whose throat has been... stabbed) had merely the collar dirty, the third an ugly, massive red spot around the heart. The last two, which Joker kept for him, were _soaked_ on the torso by a red puddle inherited from the bullet wounds.

"This is _disgusting.",_ Edward cringed whilst the jester zipped a bleeding coat above his purple suit.

"It's a way to stay WARM and FUZZY!", the maniac laughed, he improvised a dance to show himself off. "People do WEIRDER things to keep themselves warm!"

Star Wars is a good model in the field, the mental picture of Han Solo cutting through a dead Tauntaun's belly to tuck both Luke Skywalker and himself inside its bowels in order to retrieve a survival-compatible body heat blossomed in Edward's brain.

In comparison, putting on dead mobsters' jackets is a _soft option._ Even if well, contrary to this scene, they don't live in the planet Hoth, where temperatures must have been _way lower_ than they are here tonight.

"Rescue will arrive soon.", he curled up in a ball to preserve as much heat as he could.

"In the mean time, you WEAR this!"

Edward heavily protested when the clown threw an apparel at his face... then, grumbling all the while, he wrapped one around his head like a hood, zipped one (the less bloodied) around him. The coat was large enough for that he fitted his knees under the fabric as he pressed his thighs against his chest; his arms hugged himself by wrapping around his legs. There, it's indeed better.

Disgusting and potentially seen as morally condemnable by some, but _better._

He jerked again when Joker tossed the third 'less dirty' coat on top of Ed's form, adding a layer of clothing.

"Great!", he psychopath stepped in the shoes of an artist proud of his finished work. "YOU look like an egg!"

Edward may didn't dignify this with a response, he made sure to roll his eyes dramatically for it to be perceptible despite his mask.

After over a minute laughing, Joker slouched back on the ground... way too close.

"Do not..."

"T'sokay, Kittybird.", he happily gazed at him from his left. "I won't HURT you."

He stretched, as if bored by the eventuality.

"I won't do anyTHING to you."

"Convincing from the man who shot five people."

"They started! If they hadn't attacked, I wouldn't have RETALIATED! Or maybe, just for FUN."

Edward had no repartee to provide an answer to this.

"I don't hurt Batsy's kids.", Joker confessed, a strange wondering glimmer glowing in his deep black eyes, so dark it was impossible to spot the limit separating the pupil and iris; so big they looked... unatural, too large to be a normal human's; so shining they... absorbed the light around them.

Two black holes devouring everything they lay upon.

Edward shivered.

"You fight against the Dynamic Duo and Batgirl since they exist."

"If I wanted to KILL you, I would have DONE IT."

"What is it, then? Why don't you?"

Joker's grin bared numerous yellowish teeth.

"It doesn't AMUSE ME. I won't murder any of you if it's not distractING."

"... What will happen the day it 'amuses' you, then?"

"You'll be the first informed, Boy Wonder."

If that wasn't the definition of 'ultimate creepy promise'...

Despite the frightening undertone, Edward didn't move. He couldn't explain his gut feeling, though he was convinced the jester won't do anything against him tonight.

"Do you think it's midnight yet?"

"We should get close to IT.", Joker laid back, his curls drawing a messy green crown on the rocky wall behind them.

"... This is definitely not how I planned my Christmas."

That sentence came out defeated.

Sitting, leaning against the wall, Joker fully turned to him. Eddie refrained an instinctive recoil.

"It may be a 'Hanukkah' in place of a 'Christmas', it would have BEEN my first celebration with Harley since HallOWEEN."

"You would have done it... the same night as Christmas?"

"Hanukkah lasts eight days, this year it englobes Christmas Eve and CHRISTmas DAY!", the clown rectified, he did his homeworks on Jewish holidays. "So we beGUN three days AGO, we decided to do the gifts exchanges tomorrOW morning!"

Edward nodded. Not that it rejoiced him to know Harley Quinn and Joker's partnership is based on a... sort of shared _affection_ in place of a strictly professional business. Still, he couldn't help think neither the clown nor himself have anything to do here tonight. Not when they were _awaited elsewhere._

"Will the doctor Quinzel look for you?"

"She would start WORRYing.", he confirmed after tiny chuckles. "We were supposed to have dinnER late at night and shake our champagne glasses at MIDnight. What about you? Is BATSY searching his baby birdie?"

"He should be. I sent distress signals after all."

Even if, as previously stated, there is a meagre chance his calls crossed the bunker-like barrier surrounding this room. He won't let his interlocutor glimpse Batman wasn't in town, wasn't even in the... planet, he is either at the Watchtower or in Mars. Not an information Bruce's nemesis needed to obtain.

"I hope BAT isn't jealous."

Edward wached the rogue with disbelief.

"Why would he be... jealous?"

"Because I have a girlfriend! It's been years since Batsy is my number ONE priority, I never MISSed an occasion to prove him I LOVE HIm! Now I have Harley. While it's not the SAME, I... divide my time between the two of them."

"... Worry not.", he scoffed. "Batman will forgive you to promote _open relationships."_

Unsurprisingly, Joker instigated screeching laughters. The mystery lies in _how_ he hires bodyguards, henchmen and workers for his schemes: staying around this man and listening to him talk plus laugh is a torture for anyone's nerves _and_ eardrums.

__________

"What are you even doing here?"

"Told you, Kittybird. I HUNTED a necklace."

"So you've said. I mean... why _here?_ Couldn't you steal it at this woman's place?"

"She KEEPS it in her bank vault, only gets it out when going to a reception."

"Then why not attacking her at another moment, like... when she was in her car _on her way_ to the Falcone Mansion? That would have saved you lots of troubles."

The jester smirked.

"Smart kid. I could have, if it WASN'T for one last _detail:_ I received an invitation this morning! Listen up, I learned it by HEART: _'For years, all it took is a cape and a cowl to keep Batman in the shadows. This time of lies and darkness shall reverse. Under the projectors the Knight must get caught, as we know no mask survives under the spotlight'._ FollOWED by pictures of the Falcone house, the date and gala they HOST tonight."

That... cast a cold in the already chilly atmosphere.

"You are here to discover Batman's identity?!"

"No! Who do you THINK I am?! Do not insult me, I am HERE to rip apart the moron who sent me this at MY hideout. Nobody should know Batsy's identity! Those who do and threaten to USE IT deserve to perish! Unfortunatley I... didn't find them.", he conceded, sheepish. "Got caught by some GOONS before I had time to investigate OR to catch that necklace. Life SUCKS sometimes."

"That clearly highlights how I feel right now, in this _situation_ with... you, of all people."

"What made you like this?", Edward queried at some point, after what felt like an eternity trapped in this dimly lighted place.

This is one of Gotham's main enigmas, no one solved the _beginning_ of this problem. Psychiatrists failed one by one at building a coaxing diagnosis of the clown's early life, policemen never predicted his reactions when handling a transfer from the GCPD's cells to Arkham asylum, even the vigilantes had no idea how to _define_ the Prince of Crime.

Nobody... knows a thing about him. Edward doubted Quinzel unearthed anything, even if Bruce and her _are_ adequate candidates to get the closest to figure a tiny bit of him out.

The current context is not one Ed would reiterate, and the villain seemed... talkative. Therefore, asking now is not out of scope, perhaps he won't have a similar occasion in the future.

"Big question, ISn't it?", Joker mirrored his thoughts, well aware everyone in town pondered over this. "What do you think?"

"... I'll rather tell you what I _don't think.",_ Robin considered the approach. "I don't believe in the 'all it takes is just one bad day' theory that some low-ranked articles sold about you. Your physical appearance may be the result from _one day,_ your personality cannot be. To me, you've always been... this, your bath in chemicals didn't _create you,_ it gave you the 'impulse' you needed to embrace your dominant side, leap above the internal barriers what held you back all your life before the accident. If it wasn't for that dive, I bet you would have become a murderer either ways, simply with less bright green hair, blood red lips and chalk white skin. You would have been an eccentric rogue, a famous serial killer or a feared gang leader all the same. Not changing the destination, your 'villain coming out' would have taken _more time_ without the chemical cuve's boost."

Joker's smile manifests an appreciative feeling, a pleased sparkle shone in his black eyes.

"Very true!", he –to Ed's surprise– corroborated. "I too, don't understand why SOME think I am like this as a consequence of an accident. I find this theory... dismISSIve."

He made no attempt at developing further.

"So what was it?"

"You don't want to take a guess? Aren't YOU a cute li'l detective?"

"I am not answering the 'cute' part, even if that's how Gotham sees me, in addition to ascertain I am highly intelligent and charismatic. Not qualities you'd know about."

Joker's laugh wasn't mocking, he... validated the description.

"When you engage in an area you aim to attain me via the regard of others. You need my approval to keep going, motivate you and stimulate your investment. You seek me from a public in _everything_ you do and undertake. What am I?"

The clown thought it through, his angular face imitating a total concentration.

"Attention."

"Correct. With or without the clown, I believe you are a _showman_ who longs for an audience to be in awe of his spectacles. In itself, that's something I understand. I just don't value the _substance_ of your acts, based on bad jokes, blood and inventive ways to kill. Won't you... give me a clue?", he relaunched, hesitant after seconds of silence during which the rogue didn't confirm, didn't deny either, the hypothesis; he smiled broadly like the madman he is. "Can you tell me if this approximates your backstory, or if it's... beyond the point?"

"You'll have to keep guessing, KID.", he brushed off. "Nobody cares where I come from, what matters is who I AM now."

"Lots of citizens wonder about who you were, what you looked like, what was your... life, before you stuck your head in that red hood and jumped in a cuve of chemicals."

"Pathetic.", he shifted to nest himself tightly inside his two coats, they lost more degrees as the night went on. "I don't think what's relevant is who you were, but what you ARE. Present tense."

"... That's actually a mature philosophy."

Edward couldn't help think he _approved it,_ for now at least.

"Don't try befriending me, kiddo.", the clown rejected upon perceiving his agreement.

"I am not befriend..."

"You ARE. Getting curious is a first step to think of a person as SOMEone you 'know'. Don't do that for ME. Tonight we're polite and we chat, tomorrow you'll get invOLVED in a scheme of mine, next week you'll WATCH me kill innocents, next month you'll SAVE me from a gang fight going wrong, next year I'll REturn the favor and in two YEARS if I changed my mind about sidekicks, I might beat you to death, shoot you or blow you up. Do not befriend me, or you risk to get accustomed to me not beING a lethal threat to you, while one DAY if that distracts me, I might BECOME one."

This time Edward moved to the side, shivering more intensely under the rogue's... demented gaze. Yup, not someone to _trust._

"You're crazy."

"You're just GETTing that now?"

Eddie sighed, his hearing invaded by more strident bursts of laughter.

This is, by far, is worst Christmas ever.

__________

"... Who are you?"

"Why is this so difficult to understand?!", the smaller frame (a girl according to her voice) inquired, crossing her arms on her chest and raising her chin up, this was visible under her blue mask that fully covered her face, the only variation marked by two white spots at the location of her eyes. "We are Robin's team!"

"Robin has a team?"

"Actually.", the slightly taller one (a boy with a discernible suburb accent) relativized. "He does not exactly 'know' he has a team. But he def has one! We're da main members, and dat's our newest recruit."

The third child was wrapped in a jogging instead of a vigilante attire, he sported a homemade fabric strip on which he cut two holes around the eyes to feature his mask. This one looked freshly enlisted, his costume not finalized yet.

Sure thing the policeman saw weirder. This being said, he was not expecting... objectively _very young_ people to come over tonight.

"And I should trust you because..."

"Because we know everything about you, Jim Gordon.", the girl swanked smugly. "So you'd win cooperating."

"Why woul' we lie anyway?", the boy reinforced. "We wanna help!"

"Why isn't _Batman_ helping?"

The two shared a glance.

"Batman is busy with da Justice League.", the boy unveiled, after all Gordon heard this dozens of times over the years, he dealt with Batgirl and the First Robin being the vigilantes in town when the Knight leaves for missions with his colleagues heroes.

Now he'll have to get used to the Second Robin and... those newbies, who embody the next generation taking up the mantle.

"Also, we want to prove Batgirl we can handle this!", the girl completed.

"Yeah! Come on, give us da clues!"

The Commissioner ended up complying.

He was in for _another_ disrupted Christmas.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A team assembles and gets (almost) ready.  
> And I (almost) know where to go from there.

"What d'you mean, ya lost Robin?!", Jason repeated, already angry at this idiot.

Not because he never met Kite-Man in person meant he should call Chuck Brown otherwise given the information (or rather, the panicked call...) the dude communicated.

 _"It's not like I_ voluntarily _lost his track...",_ the wanna-be vigilante whispered, stressed beyond repair over what he witnessed. _"I can't contact him anymore and I am in... a bit of a predicament."_

"What kind of 'predicament'?", Stephanie spoke into the communicator.

_"I... I can't leave! I entered some sort of... creepy secret laboratory with a Falcone and two guys, and now I am stuck inside, the door closed. It's super scary! I don't know what to do, Robin doesn't answer... what if something happened to him with the Joker? I can't..."_

"The Joker?!", the children quoted.

_"Yes, he... was in the manor house too, Robin said he handles him, now it's..."_

"Okay.", Steph decided, voicing out loud what they both concluded. "Kite-Man, you stay where you are and you don't get noticed."

Jason completed:

"We're on our way ta get Robin and ya."

The communication ended on a distressed Chuck who _wasn't sure_ he made a smart choice when engaging in this evening's shenanigans.

The siblings shared a glance.

They were in the living room: Alfred convinced them earlier not to camp in the Batcave waiting for Edward. Thus they brought their communicating devices here, and were _not expecting..._ these kind of news.

How to react adequately?

After checks from multiple communicators and Ed's phone number, it became evident he _couldn't pick up._ His spy-like earpiece wasn't working either. The most logical explanation is that he wasn't near his gears, or his present environment blocked any transmission.

"Needless to try sneaking out, nothing escapes my radar.", Alfred arrived in the living room when they inferred Eddie won't respond via his gadgets. "I must warn you too, _none of you_ drives any bat-vehicles, even for an emergency. Open these.", he produced two presents, as suddenly as if they materialized out of thin air, and placed each package in one of them's hands, a satisfied smile printed under his small mustache.

Stephanie barely resisted the urge to burst out laughing when Jason and her tore apart the, respectively, purple and blue and red and yellow gift wrapping.

Jay couldn't believe the sight. He must make sure this wasn't some sort of weird as Hell _joke._ British humor is _quite odd,_ most of the times Alfred's remarks can either pass for jokes or philosophical life lessons.

"Would'ya have... given these to us tomorrow mornin'?"

"I wouldn't have.", the butler invited the two to follow him; soon they stepped outside the living room to head to a secret compartment in the main corridor leading to the Batcave's elevator. "I made an attempt at designs months ago, and planned to adjust the clothes until the opportune moment when I'll show them to you."

The wall shut behind them as they stood on the plateform of the elevator, the mechanism switched itself on to direct them down in the huge underground space.

"You made us costumes the same moment you designed Edward's Robin uniform, didn't you?", Stephanie guessed.

"Indeed. This is how things work around here: people who get involved with Bruce Wayne _get involved_ with Batman, sooner or later. So for children he brings home? I can't think of them not sliding in his world, in their way and at their pace."

Jason furrowed his brows. Albeit Steph appeared curious and delighted, this made him feel... weird.

"Is dat a... necessary step?", he asked, surprised himself by the bitterness perceptible in his tone. "Like, are we compelled ta... become vigilantes in order to be 'cool' in dis home?!"

Alfred and Stephanie seemed utterly puzzled by the reply.

"... There is no guidance to raise children," Alfred clarified as they walked on the main floor of the cave toward the parking where vehicles are stored, "no 'right method', no instruction manual and no guarantee to make a good job. One thing sure is that you may adapt, you can't _change_ who you are. Bruce and I don't have other experience when it comes to provide education. An education that implies training: physically, intellectually and mentally, followed by eventually going out in the streets to put this training into practice, or, by a laudable goal like yours tonight: assisting a teammate who might be in a tricky situation."

His explanation seemed... valid, though a bit 'easy'. Jason couldn't tell why _this_ is his conclusion, still he thought trying the vigilante world would be... different.

That it would come from his _own choice,_ not as an answer to a call, or rather, to an 'absence of call' and the internal urge they feel to go out check how things evolved.

Plus he never projected it would be... that _simple,_ with costumes made for Steph and him and Alfred who acts like anything but a mature parent, by... literally pushing them into taking what Edward would instantly label a 'bad decision'.

"I am not a mentor," the butler affirmed, as if he read his thoughts (what he probably did, who knows what powers that immortal-ghostly-spy possesses?), "it is not my role to divide actions between what's right and what's wrong, between what you can and what you cannot do. And it's certainly _not my role_ to keep you from helping your eldest when he could use a hand."

"The fact you're our friend doesn't alter your 'mentor role'.", Stephie corrected with delicacy, a gentle smile on her lips. "Everybody looks up to James Bond, you know."

Alfred didn't comment; given his expression however, no doubt the pun touched him. Jason brushed his previous mild unease off, he pointed to the main vehicle and asked:

"Think ya can drive da Batmobile?"

"Please.", the British man retorted with his traditional phlegm. "I drove the Batmobile almost as often as Bruce. And I am the _only one_ besides him who has the right to do so.", he anticipated the next question.

Batgirl drove it once a couple of years ago to urgently come back to the Batcave, a night Bruce was bleeding out, in critical need of stitches, treatment and _care_ after a particularly nasty sword fight against Talia al Ghul. Dick got scolded every time he approached the wheel, until he stopped asking for the driver seat.

Alfred was well placed to attest this: sharing his toys has always been an _issue_ of Bruce Wayne's. Ever since kindergarten, he never appreciated having other kids putting their hands on his stuff. As a logical continuation, it's normal he doesn't want anyone aside from his parent figure driving his shiny car.

"I am not driving you to the Falcones'. A crime boss' home is not a place to reach with the Batmobile."

Prior Stephanie queried how they'll get inside, they received a call from another of their communicators.

 _"Is it working?",_ a little boy's voice attempted. _"Chuck tried to replicate the bats' devices, I'm not sure he managed to line his gadgets up on the accurate frequence..."_

"It is working!", the blonde girl approved vigorously. "Did Kite-Man contact you?"

 _"He didn't. I... am getting worried.",_ he justified the nature of his call. _"He should be home by now, I'm alone, I... wait for him. It's Christmas Eve.",_ he added, as an argument to make himself sound pitiful on purpose.

That boy knows how to convince by playing on people's feelings. Steph and Jay liked him.

"We are Robin's team.", Jason answered. "So has become Kite-Man, somehow. D'you wanna... be a part of it too?"

 _"I already am!_ _Robin saved my life, he's super cool, my bro is a fan of the bats and I... wished I'd help more with his investigation. Let me join!"_

"The Brown brothers' apartment location is archived in the Batmobile's control board.", Alfred indicated quietly.

Not sharing his opinion, once more he let the younger ones make _their_ choices. They didn't prevaricate long to achieve a decision Steph rendered:

"Charles, if you want to come with us, you must wear a costume. Can you find something?"

_"I have one! It's... experimental, but it should work. Plus my brother creates bunch of cool gadgets, I'll be armed and ready!"_

There's a reason why they easily bonded with this little family. Not to remind, the two boys are potentially _Stephanie's_ biological family, they haven't cleared this side interrogation yet. Chuck and Charles' situation is... somehow reminiscient of theirs, even if Chuck is nine years older than Ed. Tonight the children made up their mind: it's time to go reclaim their big brothers who jumped into troubles and failed at getting things done.

"The Batmobile is on its way.", Jason addressed the eight years old boy. "Pack yar things and be prepared ta look badass."

"I dissuade letting your fresh recruit see me or learn anything linking to your identities.", the butler specified whilst driving (like a boss) the Batmobile. "I sent an alert to the Commissioner Gordon, he'll be waiting for you at a meeting point at the foot of his residence building."

"... Alfred?", Jason asked from the large leather rear seat.

"Yes?"

"What about... ya? Don't you wish you'd suit up somethin' and claim a more 'active' part?"

Alfred smiled.

"I have _the_ most active part of all. I help my family in every possible manner and watch over they progresses as they grow up."

As to end the subject, he clicked on a button. A piece of black tinted glass popped up from a slot made for this usage, it automatically separated the driver seat from the back of the car where the children sat (nope, Alfred allowed none on the passenger seat).

Charles Brown Jr. was standing in the street leading to his apartment complex, wrapped in a grey and orange jogging, a matching band of orange cloth tied around his head, two holes at the level of his chocolate eyes. He held bunch of strange mechanical instruments. His costume will need an upgrade if he were to become a regular; for now, his bright smile and positive trepidation when the Batmobile parked the closest to his position attested of his willingness to participate.

That's when Alfred, neither showing himself nor talking, drove the _three kids_ to Gordon's. They were getting along way too well on the backseat, they briefed each other energetically as if all of this was some sort of _game._ Just like he did for Bruce when the orphan youngster searched for a reason to live and for Dick when the bereaved acrobat who lost his parents at the circus entered their universe, Alfred encouraged them to _go on_ with a logical progression over their investigation, which may turn into a rescue mission.

__________

"I hate aliens.", Bruce muttered in front of the main screens, more as an inner thought than a statement for the persons in the Watchtower's control room. "They always make problems."

"... Way to be nice, given the fact you are the sole human in the room.", Clark retorted, though he was smiling rather than feeling offended.

"That might be true, _I_ am not an alien.", Diana backed the Dark Knight up. "I agree with mister angst-goes-first, extraterrestrials cause _troubles."_

The three of them shared a smile.

Well, Wonder Woman and Superman smiled whilst Batman shrugged alongside a grunt, what made him resemble a grumpy polar bear.

"So," the much older one resumed once they scrolled through the newest images again, "what now? The Martians are not numerous enough to be a proper threat, and not in a position of strength against Earth. My army can walk on Mars, teach them an example."

"They aren't the ones who started!", the pacifist of the Trinity opposed.

When major decisions must be taken, they balance each other fittingly: Diana thinks like a military commander, Clark like a 'peasant', so in the place of _civilians_ and Bruce... like a detective, who puts together the pieces of puzzles to elaborate plans.

"We _don't know_ who started.", he rectified in a calm voice. "Mars wants attention and it's getting it. But it has no right to demand a meeting from Earth executives on the pretext of a terrorist attack led by humans. They haven't kidnapped anyone, they haven't found the true origin of the breach in their security and nothing proves they are not making this whole story up to obtain an assistance from our planet they wouldn't get under another reason than compensations after an act of war."

"You want to know what happened, don't you?", the Amazon narrowed her blue eyes, seeing through her colleagues' hidden words.

"I don't care about societies in other worlds.", he excluded, indifferent. "I already merely care about these from other _countries_ as long as they are not a threat to our Occidental way of life. Nonetheless, if representatives of other planets become a potential danger for my party," he redirected, "then it's my responsibility to intervene."

"You mean, a danger to _Gotham?",_ Superman scoffed. "The rest of the Universe can crumble, as long as your sick town stays up, you won't see this as a problem."

"Clark!", Diana severely clicked her tongue.

It's rare for the trio to have recourse to their first names, mostly because the majority of the Justice League doesn't know Batman and Superman's identities. To prevent complications, they were used to stay at their vigilante aliases.

Except when Wonder Woman steps in the shoes of a school teacher lecturing her boys when they are purposely mean towards one another in the playground and refuse to apologize.

"You know that's not true.", she pursued accordingly. "We wouldn't be debating over what solution is the most adapted if _we_ weren't caring about the relations between Mars and _Earth._ As far as I know, no one evoked specifically Gotham City's safety before _you_ did."

Bruce noted she sounds like Alfred when he makes him a remark, or like Edward when he uses his 'mom voice' about serious topics. The parallels made him smile. Internally. His features remained solidified into this mask of never-smiling-face that comes as a part of his Bat-costume.

As if wearing the frown became incorporated into the white-eyed black cowl.

Clark granted him a brief nod as an half-hearted apology, what Bruce didn't bother acknowledging. Diana shook her head. Those two behave like such stubborn children, sometimes.

"We are Earth's self-proclaimed ambassadors.", Wonder Woman outlined. "I guess instead of warning the legal political forces, we'll deal with this on our own."

"We will.", Bruce assured.

They debated this enough times at the beginning of their partnership: the ethical question of do they have the _right_ to take decisions, like a... militia, while they are not a governmental organization.

"Pack your things.", the leader rounded off. "Take your dispositions. I want to investigate; whether those people like it or not, I am _not_ involving executives in what might be a stitch-up that made victims and may strike again."

"Who do we bring?", Clark focused on the new side of the task at hand.

"Martian Manhunter for sure, Stewart and Gardner too, Green Lanterns have their place in intergalactic conflicts. Zatanna and the Hawks if they want. Aquaman wouldn't be of any use in a dry planet."

"Barry can help too."

"No he can't.", Bruce dismissed Clark. "If things evolve the best way, it will be a simple diplomatic intervention. We don't need him to be irresponsible and make a mess."

That's also why he won't propose some other League members or independent heroes.

Things might get complicated around here. Not that this was a discovery in itself, whereas Bruce would have much preferred it if he could have dealt with the problem on his own.

Diana left, shortly followed by Clark.

Wonder Woman will be efficacious, not losing time over the evening. Amazons don't celebrate Christmas, perhaps she hadn't even noticed the agitation, or didn't associate it with special events the 24 and 25 of December. Bruce didn't ask him, he knows Superman will spend Christmas Eve at his parents', with Lois Lane invited at the Kent farm. With his family. He knew he should do the same, regardless the amount of work he has to fulfill this evening.

Batman let out a deep sigh, alone in the spacious room.

Dick spent Christmas with the Titans at Blüdhaven, Barbara with her father. He should be home with Alfred, Edward, Jason and Stephanie. Yet there he was... elaborating multiple strategies to face the most extended range of scenarios about an incoming war of interests against the last Martians.

He just hoped his kids were doing a better job than him at staying... safe.

__________

'Staying safe' _differs_ from what the younger ones were currently undertaking. In the mean time, Robin was freezing in an underground wine cellar, chatting with none other than the Joker. Consequently, none of the minors under Bruce Wayne's responsibility were making a _secure use_ of their Christmas Eve.

"... Who are you?"

"Why is this so difficult to understand?!", Stephanie crossed her arms on her chest and raised her chin, this was visible under her blue mask that fully covered her face, the only variation marked by two white spots at the location of her eyes. "We are Robin's team!"

"Robin has a team?"

Gordon was baffled. He waited for them at the foot of his building, expecting Batman or Batgirl and about to attend a brief exchange with one of the vigilantes prior they went on Robin's tracks.

Babs spending the evening at her father's, she undoubtedly heard or knew about their call. She hadn't manifested any desire to participate, she won't show up unless directly contacted.

"Actually.", Jason relativized at the policeman's attention. "He does not exactly 'know' he has a team. But he def has one! We're da main members, and dat's our newest recruit."

Given his expression, the last thing he awaited tonight is children dressed like apprentice vigilantes. The siblings' attires were identical, red and yellow for Jason and eggplant and blue for Stephanie, they both benefitted of capes falling past their waist, above mid-tight, completed by a hood they could put on or keep hanging around the back of their neck. Two versions existed in the packages: domino mask or full-face covering mask. Jason elected the first option, whilst Stephanie chose the second one.

Alfred hadn't showed up, only the back of the Batmobile opened, letting out three much smaller frames than Jim expected to converse with. All of this was, without a doubt, _confusing,_ as his affirmation confirmed:

"And I should trust you because..."

"Because we know everything about you, Jim Gordon.", Stephie swanked smugly. "So you'd win cooperating."

"Why woul' we lie anyway?", Jaybird reinforced. "We wanna help!"

"Why isn't _Batman_ helping?"

The two shared a glance.

"Batman is busy with da Justice League.", the boy unveiled, after all Gordon heard this dozens of times over the years, he dealt with Batgirl and the First Robin being the vigilantes in town when the Knight leaves for missions with his colleagues heroes.

Now he'll have to get used to the Second Robin and... those newbies, who embody the next generation taking up the mantle.

"Also, we want to prove Batgirl we can handle this!", the girl belabored.

"Yeah! Come on, give us da clues!"

The Commissioner ended up complying.

Whilst he concluded he was in for _another_ disrupted Christmas, the children had in mind to find a way to get inside without being noted, knowing the Batmobile won't escort them to the Falcone Mansion.

"Is the Batmobile automatic? Or... alive?", Charles murmured when the staunch car left after they exited the vehicle.

He didn't see who was inside, it's reasonable he assumes there's no one driving. Not disabusing him, Steph recentered:

"The Batmobile cannot help further."

"... How do you know _that man_ will accept to 'help'?"

"He's a colleague of Batman's.", Jason smirked.

They spotted that Harvey Dent is invited to the Falcone gala, Jim told them he declined the invitation. That's an opportunity to get in incognito.

"Dent hates the Falcones and other crime families way more than I do.", the Commissioner had informed them. "Being very mediatized however, he engages in social events and receptions with them. The main mobsters _are_ public faces after all, they regularly go to meetings and are photographed at cultural places every week. Whenever Dent is invited at crime bosses' for official events, he never forgets to tell me whether he goes or not. Not that I believe someone would attack one of the Gotham gossip's most cherished protégés in a reception, but one is never too prudent. Dent legally condemned enough mobsters, dealers and murderers to cultivate many enemies in town."

If he said 'no', he could correct it into 'yes'.

That's what the children counted on, when they, straightforwardly, went to his apartment's floor to pick his lock. Zero meaningful security.

For a known face who receives as many love letters as death threats, the guy seems _too confident._ Or too dumb: there is a difference between paranoia and elementary safety, Dent doesn't possess neither the former nor the latter.

"Gordon called me, he told me what to... expect.", the lawyer greeted them as they irrupted... in the living room where the couple were having dinner.

The oven-roasted leg of lamb smelled heavenily appetizing. Gilda Gold and Harvey Dent were dressed as if they tried to impress one another... or maybe that's just how adults behave during dates: by getting _over pretty._ Not that the kids would know about habits at romantic dinners.

"And the answer is no.", he appended in a steady voice. "I have my plans for this evening, I..."

"We'd be happy to help if we can.", Gilda turned toward her boyfriend, took his hand and complemented by a tender: "I know why you refuse. This is not a reason. _I_ should not be a reason for you to make your alliance with Batman and the Commissioner go second. I know what I signed for, I am aware I'll have to share you with Batman and his allies."

"You'd... agree to go for it?"

Gilda laughed at the cartoonish expression of _surprise_ drawn unto Harvey's features.

"I was in for a special Christmas Eve.", she validated, tilting her head to the side, what formed a gracious movement of her curly hair. "I may didn't predict... this kind of special, it's perfectly fine by me. Although unplanned, I'm glad I'll have a taste of adventures tonight."

Steph and Jay shared a complicit gaze. They got Snow White's approval, the district attorney won't be hard to convince.

This was honestly thrilling, for Stephanie, Jason, Charles and Gilda, who participate as active parts of a mission for the first time.

As for him, Harvey Dent wondered since _when_ Batman hires _children_ to get his business done. The Robins are one thing, they are his successive sidekicks in the Dynamic Duo; Batgirl is an adult. But _those three?_ Looks like the Caped Crusader recruited in kindergarten.

This being said, the lawyer was smiling.

His girlfriend knows his work occasionally involves Batman and Jim Gordon, she accepted it from the start of their relationship. Seeing her that enthusiastic upon helping the Bat's newest teammates, he couldn't help think he was in for a, though unexpected, pleasant Christmas. Not to forget, if he dealt with those children right, he could validate another 'good point' in the checkbox.

He may feel like an enamored teen, they weren't youngsters: he was thirty-three and Gilda thirty-five.

While they haven't evoked marriage or family yet, this floated in a corner of their head. So... to behave like a caring adult with two boys and a girl _could be_ a positive experience.

As they looked, they could as well take Harvey's car to go out, in their neat suit and elegant silver dress. They'll pretend they changed their mind to join the gala, and will discretely get the 'small vigilantes' inside. Given their pocket size, they won't face troubles sneaking _in._

Not Harvey's first time doing something like this; for Gilda, Jason, Stephanie and Charles nevertheless, being recruited for a mission felt like a peculiar though lovely Christmas present.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Underground.

"I am happy you made it in, in the end!", the mobster greeted warmly the district attorney.

That they hate each other doesn't change a thing to their line of conduct during receptions: famous Gothamites act 'civil' and address wide, toothy shark grins to everyone in place of stabbing one another.

Thus Mario Falcone and Harvey Dent exchanged the most hypocritical handshake; the lawyer conjured up fake compliments about the elegant party the Italian family organized for this evening and lied openly when he concluded it "would have been a shame not to participate to such entertaining event". His thoughts towards the youngest Falcone, "you are a vicious rat who belongs behind _bars_ and one of those days, I'll succeed at sending you to jail" floated in the ambient air around the two men while Harvey squeezed _too strongly_ his fingers between his.

No need to pretend beyond the facade of civilian standards: it's no secret he dedicated his life to fight criminals. Furthermore, as many attested in town, Dent nurtures nothing but scorn and disgust regarding murderers who are _so_ healthy they can wander around the city, are free to go _wherever they want,_ can do _whatever they want_ without ever being hassled by justice under the sole reason they erected walls of dollars around their name, and hide behind this fortress of influence to perpetuate their unsavory intrigues.

Whilst Gilda and him entered via the front door, their passengers vanished in the huge garden surrounding the property. The night-induced darkness highly facilitated the maneuver, shadows enveloped them when they exited the car before the couple arrived at the main parking facing the manor house.

"It's alright, they never demolish a car prior letting people in at their silly 'parties'. However they effectively open the trunk, check whether or not there is something suspicious on the rear seat. This being said, for events not related to mob meetings, goons rarely think of searching _inside.",_ Harvey had shared his knowledge in the domain when the two adults and three children stood in front of his car in the parking lot reserved for inhabitants of his building.

In an apparently usual gesture, the lawyer made the grey cushions pop from the rear seat, revealing a relatively large compartment that contained loaded guns, a bulletproof vest, multiple rolls of dollars in case of emergency, a small radio set, a thick coiled rope, knives and a first aid kit.

"My Batmobile.", he introduced, somewhat smug upon seeing the surprised expression of his current 'teammates'.

"I was wrong 'bout you.", Jason defined, a hint of admiration in his voice at the view of this equipment the district attorney keeps in his vehicle. "In fact ya're a _tiny bit_ paranoid."

Removing the weapons and material, going back to his flat to store the stuff and therefore free the space of the compartment didn't take long. Harvey was grateful today is Christmas Eve: most people were inside at this hour, there is practically no one in the streets and he didn't meet neighbors when heading back to his apartment floor, holding an armful of bare essential-for-survival items.

By the time he returned, the very young vigilantes fit in his car stash.

A luck they are a _small format,_ otherwise all three wouldn't have inset themselves inside.

"Not too tight?", he joked; Gilda and him seized the car pillows to lay the cover back on its original spot.

"That will work for tonight.", Stephanie approved from her space between the boys. "But I have a claim: your version of the Batmobile could use to be _upgraded_ by taking comfort into account."

Her remark made the adults smile. They closed the compartment with the cushions... and took the apprentice heroes for a ride.

Unsurprisingly, habitual procedure applied: at the large metal gate leading to the park of the property, two persons asked Harvey to open the trunk of his car and took a brief look inside. This was by no means a meticulous frisk, more like a formality for good measure.

It has not been a hardship from there, to advance in the path of pea gravels linking the official entry of the huge garden to the front of the ancient manor house. Harvey's car stopped in the alley between the tall oaks that framed the road, the kids exited the vehicle and blended in the dense vegetation planted with trees almost all the way to the mansion. They'll find an access to sneak inside, Harvey had no doubt playing spies must figure among Batman's initial lessons.

Their part done, the couple parked their car, walked out to the massive steps leading to the main wooden door, entered the reception and mingled. Harvey _is_ more used to this type of masquerade than Gilda; on the other hand she came with him at galas already, she'll manage just fine.

They will stay on their guard in case something comes up.

__________

"How does BatSY recruit you birDIES?"

"By _sheer fluke.",_ Edward laughed. "I don't think he ever planned on having partners, so even less training apprentices. He... adapted to unforseeable circumstances, and did his best to deal with what happened."

Joker nodded, appreciative.

They initiated an one-on-one questions session, which begun a handful of minutes ago. Nothing personal has been broached; Robin would obviously not let the clown glimpse anything compromising. He must admit though, responding to random inquiries with Gotham's public enemy number 1 possesses a... truly amusing side.

"Do you have any children?"

The jester raised an oddly shaped eyebrow, his crimson red smile enlarged. They went from querying about favorite spicy food and most humorous romantic comedy in their opinion to... this: the sidekick's question about hypothetical blood ties.

"This is what you WANTED to ask me from the start of this li'l 'innocent' game, DIDN'T YOU?"

Edward shook his head with despair at how _pleased_ with himself (for no reason) the adult seemed to be.

This game might sound irrelevant, even a dash stupid, they were both trapped in a cold room until either Kite-Man or Harley Quinn noticed their disappearance and looked for them. Ed hoped his acolyte of the moment will be the first to show up, in place of Miss-crazy-psychiatrist-wearing-pigtails. This eventuality aside, he was alone in a wine cellar with the Prince of Crime in 'talkative' mood.

A smiliar situation probably _won't occur again,_ it's now or never if he could extract small advantages out of it. Like... useful informations.

"Perhaps.", the teenager acknowledged consequently, shifting under his partially blood-stained coats.

Soon he'll have to change of position: his legs hurt, between the tight hold he kept around his thighs and calves and the hard surface of the rocky ground under him.

"I met many strange people.", he developed, his chin resting on his raised up knees he hugged under the vests. "Among those, some who assert they've been intimate with villains. In the middle of ludicrous anecdotes and non-credible testimonies, reports held my attention. At first I didn't care, I merely associated each with hysterical fans who have nothing better to do with their lives. Be that as it may, some stories are... more convincing than others."

"A good lie _lies_ in the DETAILS."

After an –expected– tidal of laughters as if his reply was hilarious, Joker pursued:

"Lots of people PRETEND they had an ADventure with a known face from the UNDERworld. Same happens reversal: you'd be scared if you had _any idea_ of the number of men and women who rumor they spent a NIGHT with a Batfamily member... AccordING to them, Batman is the father of NUMerous children in town, and Batgirl aborted a dozen times after HEATed encounters knocked her up."

Edward made a face.

"This is _disgusting_ and _disrespectful."_

"It is!", Joker validated vigorously. "While it's estaBLISHED everyone knows it's no more than LIES, that doesn't make the degrading stories any more pleasant to listen to. I sliced more than one throat of fools who've been TOO INSistent with false details about how they fucked MY Batsy."

Nobody would miss those pervs, moreover they _were_ pushing their luck and playing with their lives when shouting they shagged the Bat in front of his nemesis.

"I learned how to decipher a cringe lie from the truth.", Robin redirected, refraining a remark against the clown's radical manner to deal with idiots. "It's just that... sometimes 'details' open the way to doubts. Especially when there's a _real baby_ involved."

Joker shrugged in an overdramatic gesture.

"It's even EASIER! In this town, take any female prostitute, poor girl or student who gets pregnant without KNOWING from who, or not WANTING to confess their new CONDItion to their dumbass of a boyfriend, they'll affIRM a male Rogues Gallery member, Batman or the previous Robin is implicated."

"And not me?", he teased, what made the older one _laugh some more._

"I heard that scenario twice already! Plus a FEW persons who bragged about their WAY with you. In the business WE all know everything is a lie; in your case it's even more unbelievable you'd voluntarily have a GOOD TIME with women."

Edward blushed. That... frustrated him. A lot. Not the (truthful) assumption, rather the _way_ Joker formulated it. He wasn't quite sure why, yet somehow it _bothered him_ to note the Underworld chats over such meaningless subjects, as if they were... no more than a group of dumb high schoolers who take bets concerning popular figures from the opposite side.

This is almost... disappointing.

The clown misinterpreted his unease, he cast a provocative:

"Still IN your closet?"

"No. I was just thinking you guys are not... as impressive as you want the city to believe you are."

It's like a bit of the magic is flying away., he added internally but didn't phrase out loud.

Same goes since he knows the identities of the Gotham heroes. It's both thrilling and... irritating, to come to terms with the fact there won't have mysteries anymore in this field. Well, it felt the same whenever he envisaged how... strangely ordinary the villains are. Strangely... human. They settle a couple of schemes per year; the rest of their time, that is to say _most of it_ outside Arkham asylum is... kinda common.

Like real people do.

"I don't thINK I have. Children.", Joker specified eventually. "I met bunch of CRAZY people –and I am the one who calls them that...– who harassed me saying they want KIDS from me. Some are memBERS of a fucking _cult,_ can you believe that? I never laughed as much as that one TIME a group of WEIRDOS told me they believe I must be a deity who should lead a 'religion of anarchy', whatever that means. As if I gave a _damn_ about my popularity, I only want to have FUN."

He interrupted himself by a crisis of raucous laughs, then reinforced the 'children' topic:

"Besides, not to deceive those 'fans', I don't think I'd be... funtionAL down there. Couldn't give them HEIRS to worship. That's a _good thing_ for POOR unborn kids not to be raised by wolves like THAT."

He chuckled while Ed thought it through. Based on the eventuality Joker was 'normal' (at least physically speaking; on the mental field he must have been a _mess_ even in the skin of his 'him' of before...) antecedent to his dive in chemicals, it _would be_ logical the acid what transformed his physiognomy also made him... sterile.

"Nevertheless, if you refer to my no-life of BEFORE...", he grinned maliciously. "Are you tryING to hint I am your father?"

Edward let out an audible deep sigh.

"This is _assuredly not_ what I insinuated. During the job, I... simply came across a woman who had a baby and claimed it to be yours. Her story sounded credible and... documented. Even if all things considered, she was certainly a member or follower of this 'cult' or whatever it truly means for them."

Joker shrugged again. Albeit the 'I am your father' allusion amused him, he focused on the other aspect of what Robin outlined.

"She was probably pregnant BEFORE or _got pregnant_ shortly AFTER we met. Wouldn't be the first, won't be the last. If you have a doubt, next time I take a STOP OVER at ARkham after a thwarted scheme, you can pay me a visit with a needle! I'll let you do a parternity BLOOD test."

"... Thoughtful.", Eddie commented, puzzled by the prompt offer. "That might be a tab _difficult to achieve_ though, since I... don't know where the baby is. She put it to adoption after being declared mentally ill and unable to raise a child."

This piqued the green-haired one's curiosity.

"I won't remember the GIRL'S name.", he warned. "Nonetheless... this _does_ ring a bell. I remember that EPIsode: a nutjob who pursued me in an alley, a bit under two years ago I'd say, screaming that doctors from GOTHAM General 'stole our baby girl' and that I shOULD 'forgive her' for losing it. That made me laugh enOUGH to spare that bitch, she made my day!"

"... An _hilarious_ anecdote indeed.", the redhead jeered, the heavy sarcasm and neat disapproval in his tone provoked another wave of laughters. "Yet... this person exists and you remember her, then. At least a little bit. Is this..."

"A fake? Sure it is! Even if that lady seemed INSANE enough it BELIEVE her child is actually mine, she most likely got it from someone else."

"And you... never investigated or tried to find the child?"

"If I paid attENTION to nonsense, I'd be searCHING kids left and right. So would be my fellow-frenemies-who-mostly-hate-me from the Gallery. I have no TIME to waste with bad jokes, I LAUGH at these and THROW them out."

"Way to deal with your problems. I keep the blood test offer, tho. Just in case."

"In case I'd be your dad?"

"... In case you'd be related to Pennywise, and under the eventuality I would capture one of its kind. I'll be able to prove you are a shapeshifting alien who has a questionable circus-related aesthetic."

His eardrums suffered subsequent strident laughters.

"You're funny, Kittybird!", he rejoiced. "I'll share THAT next time we discuss about you. You already have a 'smug-and-cute little brat' image, I'll let the others KNOW you're a witty one too."

"The smug portrait is the most accurate.", Edward smirked, pleased with the description. "And one I intend to perpetuate. You can add 'confident genius', in case it's not clear enough. What else are you saying? I wanna _know_ if I have a reputation to uphold."

"In my OPINION, you're on the good path to GET a reputation! For the rest, I am not the most reliable to keep you abreast of talks in the Iceberg Lounge: everybody hates me, I'm never invited outside BUSINESS meetings."

The fact the Prince of Crime is well aware of his own inability at maintaing social contacts even with _villains_ is somehow hilarious.

"Oh, and there's always Croc who is convinced you are a GIRL.", Joker selected one of the laughable theories he caught. "I think it has SOMEthing to do with your high bud. He believes you're making a reMAKE of an American, ginger version of Mulan, and that you hope Batsy won't _see right through you_ and keep on trAINING you without discovering your SECRET."

"... Aside from the rather flattering Mulan comparison, this theory is utterly and irrevocably _stupid."_

"It's an idea by Killer Croc! This is one of the MOST intelligent things he said."

Edward smiled whilst the older one guffawed. The whole thing is so... weird, there again.

They jumped to their feet when a loud creaking reverberated from a portion of wall facing them, on which an open air cupboard displayed ranges of red wine bottles.

Edward reached the location of the disturbance in the Force; with a swift movement he unfolded his cane-gadget whose handle rested on his side, at a spot on his utility belt provided for that purpose.

"SeCRET passage?", Joker grinned broadly, standing a few feet from him.

"As it seems. Question is: _who_ activated its mechanism?"

Some coughing noise arose, alongside a feminine voice who cursed against the quantity of _dust_ she inhaled when she turned the gears on.

"... Vicki?!"

The alcohol-furnished cupboard moved to its left, it revealed a narrow breach from where a familiar face extricated.

She broke into a victorious smile.

"There you are! Whereas it's a stroke of luck I found you, if asked I'm gonna pretend I _knew_ where to go and how to find my way back. Wait, is that the Joker?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

The jester bowed down in a parodied salute.

"Miss Vale. What a charming dress you're WEARING tonight. It suits you much better than your outfit for our last DATE."

Edward's gaze quickly went from one adult to the other, what the journalist perceived.

"He trapped me in a Pandora's box during a scheme of his, for a magic show he dedicated to Batman on April's Fool day, two years ago.", she clarified. "Would have been stabbed by a goon of his he hired as assistant if I remained inside when he slipped swords in the cracks."

"Batman saved you?"

"He didn't, he would have arrived too late. I _saved myself_ when I found the trick to pry open that box. Batman wasn't there, he wouldn't have made it on time."

Edward watched Joker's sanguinary version of a magic show on the news, like pretty much everyone in town. _This_ was never unveiled, he didn't know Vale counted among the hostages he put through typical 'magical' performances that ended by the death of each subject when they failed to escape their cages. He recalled the 'to-stab box' being empty when reporters shared pictures of the installments, nobody knew if it's because there was no one inside at the beginning of Joker's murderous prank or if the prisoner escaped. He'll type the second option in that file if he clicked on it in the Batcomputer, where all 'made in rogues' attacks are archived from the start of Bruce's crusade.

As the GCPD shared with civilians via interviews, Batman and Robin arrested the madman before he finished his act: they saved the remaining people.

Edward's jaw clutched. The criminal has a point: he should not, under any circumstances, try to befriend him. If he needed a reminder, a simple look at what he had done is enough to discourage any attempt at a cordial bonding.

Joker bursted out laughing when he looked down at his right wrist, tied via a _handcuff_ to a bar of the wine-furnished metal cupboard.

"You reaLIZE I saw you coming and I'll get FREE within thirty seconds if I decide to?"

"Maybe, maybe not.", Robin concluded coldly. "You're in for a Merry Arkham Christmas when Gordon picks you up. Be a darling, offer him one of these overpriced wine bottles. Falcone won't mind, and if he did, that _wouldn't be a problem."_

Leaving the jester to another powerful laughter that rocked his entire body, Eddie followed Vicki in the corridor to leave the room... and cast her a reproving glance prior they progressed in the gallery.

"Seriously?!"

"You said yourself the mobster won't notice! Plus it's not like any moral rule kept me from drinking on the job. How else do you think I find the courage to jump into dangerous situations to get my best scoops?"

The young woman opened a mature red wine bottle with a sonorous 'pop'. Apparently, her Swiss army pocket knife contains a corkscrew she is _used to employ,_ given her precise movements and how easily she freed the bottle's neck from its cork plug.

"Want a sip?"

"No thanks."

"Too bad. It's some good stuff the Italians keep in their basement.", she described after tasting the liquid.

Edward shook his head, more amused than he would have bet on while she brought the bottle to her lips again.

The corridor they walked in was lighted by electric red neons, what Vicki complemented with the flashlight incoporated in her smartphone, so Ed didn't took his pocket lamp out. It's _definitely_ an habit of rich Gothamites' to build underground spaces in their family home.

"How did you find this access?", he inquired, mindful of the irregular ground.

If he was taller, he would have been prudent not to bump on the serrated ceiling too. Key word: 'if'.

"I sneaked in.", his acolyte answered proudly, sipping her heady wine. "This is what I do when I am invited to parties: I save a moment to comb bedrooms with the aim to find juicy informations. There I dug out a secret door."

"... You are one little _snoop."_

"Thank you! The compliment goes straight to my heart."

She winked at him and Eddie smirked. Still, he stored the mental note to be _careful_ next time Vale gets in Wayne Manor for a social event. It would be... troublesome, if she 'accidentally' opened a passage to the Batcave.

"By any chance, you didn't come across a kinda well-built guy dressed in a green and yellow bodysuit, wearing a green balaclava? He's an ally, I came here with Kite-Man."

"I didn't, I entered what could be Mario Falcone's bedroom according to the pictures on the walls; I opened a hatch behind his desk when rummaging in his dresser. But... 'Kite-Man'? Is he going to keep _that_ name?"

"I've seen weirder."

"Same.", she conceded.

They shared a smile.

"However, I don't get the _point_ of having a bedroom that links to a wine cellar."

"There is probably more.", Ed denied quietly. "The cellar itself was designed like a bunker, these corridors must lead to different places. I guess it..."

"It should be there.", Vicki cut, eying a part of the ceiling ten centimeters above their head. "The hatch. I am 100% _sure_ it was right there!"

Nothing held the trace of an entrance at this spot in the plain rock.

"We are not lost.", she insisted, glaring at the stones as if that could help. "I _know_ I descended in the corridor _here!"_

"... Regardless, we won't _leave it_ from there. Let's find another way out."

They had no other choice.

Edward wanted to _get out._ The heavy sensation to be spied on caused him to turn around repeatedly, coaxed someone followed them. He repressed the fear: it's normal not to feel at ease underground, in some creepy place organized by a crime family.

__________

_"The way's clear. The creeps walked to an adjacent room or whatever else there is.",_ Kite-Man confirmed via his communicator when the kids arrived in the office from which he got into a 'laboratory' dissimulated by a secret door.

"Is Robin there with you?", Stephanie interrogated. "You mentioned the Joker, is it..."

 _"Whatever Robin is doing,_ this _is more than what he expected to find. That's_ the _real mission."_

Steph and Jason shared a concerned glance.

"This is... weird.", the older boy of the young trio voiced their current feeling. "Why is dis so easy, as if it were _made_ ta let us in?"

"Who cares that it's easy?", Charles clenched his fists. "My brother's on the other side, Robin will certainly try to reach this lab too, and getting inside is the point of you two dressing up for the occasion! Let's get going."

He was the one who activated the mechanism as Chuck instructed, to open the doors of an underground space... aka a short corridor at the end of which they discerned a plastic yellow boot.

"Kite-Man!", Charles hurried to his side before Jay and Steph commanded him to _wait._

Their heart pounding in their chest, the siblings ran to the silhouette as well, phasers in their hands in prevention.

But there was no one else than Chuck Brown, lying on his back on a rocky ground. He blinked, his eyelids fluttered rapidly, visible in the two holes of his balaclava that left in open air round patches of skin around his chocolate brown eyes. He came back to consciousness; Charles knelt by his side, helped him to the sitting position.

"What happened to you?!", Stephanie urged him to respond, a growing unease making its way through her senses.

He massaged his temples.

"I... I saw a laboratory. And... then there was a voice... or something like that... I don't remember... who are you?!", he focused at last on the three little forms wearing hero costumes.

"Friends.", Jason canceled any longer explanation. "We were talkin' less than one minute ago when ya told us how ta get inside."

Kite-Man blinked some more.

"I... didn't speak to anyone since I sent an alert because Robin disappeared and you answered you're on your way."

A shiver ran down their spine.

The disturbing sensation increased when Stephie looked behind them.

"... Where is the door?", she murmured, trying not to let them detect she was starting to feel _afraid_ at the view of the smooth stone surface where a _door_ stood mere seconds ago.

"A door?", Chuck frowned some more. "There is no door here. How did you enter?"

Steph took a few steps toward the edge of the small plateform they stood on, to plunge her gaze into the darkness beyond.

"Question shoul' rather be...", Jason whispered what they both thought at present. "How are we gonna get _out_ now?!"


End file.
